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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23730358">where the firelight fades</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexSeanchai/pseuds/AlexSeanchai'>AlexSeanchai</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>where the firelight fades [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Miraculous Ladybug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>ADHD Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Has Issues, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Needs a Hug, Akumatized Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Alya Césaire, Angst with a Happy Ending, Autistic Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Autistic Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Badass Alix Kubdel, Character Death, Chloé Bourgeois Redemption, Demiboy Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Demigirl Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Emilie Agreste Lives, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyday Heroes of Miraculous Paris, F/M, Fanart Welcome, Fire, Gabriel Agreste | Hawk Moth is an Asshole, Good Friend Nino Lahiffe, Identity Reveal, Implied Future Lila Rossi Redemption, Inspired by Fanart, Lies, Lila Rossi's Lies Are Exposed, Master Fu Is Doing His Best, Minor Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe, Minor Chloé Bourgeois/Kagami Tsurugi, Minor Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant, Miraculous History, Nonbinary Alya Césaire | Rena Rouge, Podfic Welcome, Protective Kagami Tsurugi, Puns &amp; Word Play, Queer Het, Queer Themes, Romantic Angst, Stressed Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Stubborn Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Suicidal Ideation, Temporary Character Death, Truth Spells, Unreliable Narrator</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:34:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>89,298</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23730358</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexSeanchai/pseuds/AlexSeanchai</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Some say the world will end in fire,<br/>   Some say in ice.</p><p>—<i>excerpted from</i> "<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fire_and_Ice_(poem)">Fire and Ice</a>", Robert Frost<br/> </p><p>Ladybug's smirk isn't even vicious. Wouldn't even look vicious without the nightmarish argon glow outlining a butterfly mask.</p><p>"What's wrong, Chat?"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir &amp; Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alya Césaire &amp; Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug &amp; Paris</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>where the firelight fades [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740664</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>153</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>420</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. madness I've seen in her eyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/608347">found your weakness</a> by alliando.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Chapter-specific content notes will be in the closing notes of each chapter. Content notes present in the story tags will not be reiterated.</p><p>This story takes place after "Félix"; the events of "Ladybug", "Heart Hunter", and "Miracle Queen" have not yet occurred.</p><p>In an effort to make the series contradict itself less, I am altering some canonical details, particularly with regard to chronology. Cases in point:<br/>• the episodes <em>do</em> occur in <a href="https://alexseanchai.dreamwidth.org/2263364.html">a set order</a>—though for purposes other than this story, I'm now referring y'all to <i><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24848722/chapters/60111379">[meta] time flies like an arrow (or, causality is not an oxymoron)</a></i> for episode order<br/>• the birthdays in "Bubbler" and "Béfana" were their fifteenth<br/>• in the scene in "Ladybug" that's concurrent with "Béfana", Adrien refers to the fashion show in "Style Queen" in the future tense, not the past tense<br/>• there is no way "Félix" is the first anniversary of Émilie's disappearance. None. <em>Second</em> anniversary, now, that I'll believe.</p><p>Also, Tour Eiffel is not in almost all of the places the show puts it, and geography and architecture are things that make sense without magic.</p><p>Fun game: Count the ways in which <a href="https://whydoyouneedtoknow.fanficauthors.net/Harry_Potter/">whydoyouneedtoknow's Dangerverse</a> directly inspired this fic!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The heart wants what the heart wants,<br/>and what it wants is fire.</p><p>—<i>excerpted from</i> "<a href="https://muse.jhu.edu/article/180871">Pyromania</a>", Diane Lockward</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a id="creturn01" name="creturn01"></a>Chapter-specific content notes are in the chapter end notes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She leans up to kiss him under the starry Paris sky, above the glowing city night. She leans up to kiss him, gentle but confident, lovingly and without reservation, everything he's ever dreamed of—except he can smell her, sweet lavender and bitter rosemary: he knows he's awake. She leans up to kiss him, her warm hands caressing his arms and a glint off the gloss on her lips, and she hasn't said a word of why—what is different about this place or this time, about him or—</p><p>—about her.</p><p>"Stop it!" he cries, pushing her away. He can't—he can't look, he—his heart, like ice. Like ice shattering. How can she have—what did he miss? How did he fail to protect her? How <em>could</em> he?</p><p>Ladybug's smirk isn't even vicious. Wouldn't even look vicious without the nightmarish argon glow outlining a butterfly mask.</p><p>"What's wrong, Chat?"</p>
<hr/>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Content note: nonconsensual kiss. <sup>[<a href="#creturn01">return</a>]</sup><br/> </p><p>A more prosaic image description of <a href="https://alexseanchai.tumblr.com/post/184545609195/alliando-found-your-weakness-weeps">the story-sparking art</a> by <a href="https://alliando.tumblr.com"><b>alliando</b></a>:</p><p>Background: starry night sky, glowing from below with city lights.<br/>1: Ladybug kisses Chat Noir. Not much of her face is visible, but half of his is: he looks surprised and upset.<br/>2: Chat Noir pushes her away, looking down (in multiple senses), saying "<em>Stop it!</em>"<br/>3: Ladybug, front view of her smirking face, with a purple butterfly outline hovering before her eyes. "…What's wrong?" she asks.<br/>4: Chat Noir, front view of his despairing face as Ladybug finishes her sentence with "…Chat."<br/>  </p><p>Story and chapter titles are from "<a href="http://seananmcguire.com/songbook.php?id=57">River Lies</a>" by <b>Seanan McGuire</b>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. we were both of us betrayed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>and a hunk of armor crashes down<br/>like a tower. Fire against metal.<br/>A poet might say: romance against banality.<br/>When awake I know better.</p>
<p>—<i>excerpted from</i> "<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47788/the-loneliness-of-the-military-historian">The Loneliness of the Military Historian</a>", Margaret Atwood<br/> </p>
<p>Ladybug, Ladybug, fly away home—<br/>Your house is on fire, your loved ones will burn!</p>
<p>—<i>adapted from</i> an <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/34601/34601-h/34601-h.htm#LADY_BIRD">English nursery rhyme</a>, author unknown</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a id="creturn02" name="creturn02"></a>Chapter-specific content notes are in the chapter end notes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ladybug hurtles southwest along the rooftops, glance whipping every which way. Adrien trudges southwest along the street, hands in his pockets and head downcast, toying with his Marinette lucky charm and hoping—</p>
<p>She drops to the pavement before him. Adrien jolts: she draws his attention as she always does, magnetic. "Adrien!" she says, sounding startled. "What are you doing out so late? And no coat—" Adrien shrugs one shoulder and opens his mouth; Ladybug shakes her head. "No, listen, there's an akuma—I have to get you to safety," she says, scooping him up bridal carry before he can protest and taking off northwest. "And then catch up with Chat Noir; did you see where he went?"</p>
<p>Well done, Adrien observes, thoughts as jostled as he is: being jounced across the rooftops, held tightly enough he can only see behind her and even that is one-eyed (his other can barely see anything but the triaxial weave of her armor), is distressingly disconcerting in and of itself. Well phrased: not one word rings false. Anyone else she said this to, anyone who didn't know what he knows, would rely on what they know of Ladybug to lie to themselves.</p>
<p>"He was going southwest," Adrien tells her. "I didn't know he was chasing anyone."</p>
<p>That's a game two can play.</p>
<p>"Why aren't you home, though?" Ladybug asks, and launches her yo-yo to anchor them for a leap across a street.</p>
<p>It doesn't connect right. They have a lot of momentum and Adrien wholly trusts his partner not to let them pancake on a wall or crash through a window but it is viscerally clear they <em>will</em>.</p>
<p>They don't—she casts the yo-yo midair and it catches, holds, swings them up; she lands them on the next roof and keeps running—but no one could possibly blame him for taking a moment to collect himself before answering.</p>
<p>And that was not a shriek, squawk, or squeal that she heard. Absolutely not.</p>
<p>"I got restless," Adrien tells her. "I…hurt a friend earlier." He doesn't know why, or how, or how not to do it again; he is only bitterly grateful it wasn't she who got akumatized. It would be better, easier, <em>safer</em> to fight her than his lady, but even so, his traitorous heart is glad. "I've been trying to figure out how to make it up to her." Every word he says to her lately comes out wrong somehow: she hears his praise as insults, his compliments as lies, and he doesn't know <em>why</em>. "But I'm drawing blanks," ha, ha, ha, "so I came out to clear my head."</p>
<p>Ladybug nods. "We have to get you home," she says. "It's not safe."</p>
<p>Adrien doesn't protest.</p>
<p>She vaults the entry gate and sets Adrien down just inside the courtyard wall. "Stay here," she says, with a nervous glance at the roof. "Stay safe, stay out of sight—I can't let you get hurt, but I can't get distracted by trying to keep you safe, either."</p>
<p>Any other day, Adrien would have served her his own heart, grilled with shallots and vinaigrette, if he thought it would mean she'd look at him this tenderly.</p>
<p>"I <em>can't</em>," Ladybug pleads. "Not tonight. Stay safe, do you understand me?"</p>
<p>"Yeah," Adrien answers, and—<i>she is your sweetheart,</i> he remembers Giuseppe telling him of Margot (or was it Marie or Madeleine?): <i>look at her, look how she tells you how she loves you</i>—and he smiles blushingly down at her. "I understand."</p>
<p>He understands perfectly.</p>
<p>Ladybug waits on the steps: Adrien glances back before opening the front door, then, reluctantly, lets it latch behind him, the indoor warmth no comfort. Nathalie opens the door from the atelier, phone to her ear; Adrien rushes upstairs to find a window to watch Ladybug go, only half noticing Nathalie saying "Adrien's home, sir. —Sir, if you do not take the aspirin yourself, I will force it down your throat."</p>
<p>Father must be feeling dizzy, or short of breath, or a purely literal heartache. Nathalie cares more about his heart health than Father does. Ordinarily, so does Adrien; he cannot care about it at all, not tonight. He may regret that later: knowing why Maman—left—and knowing how much she would have cared if she'd known <em>to</em> care, he <em>knows</em> he might regret that later—but—</p>
<p>"—I understand," says Nathalie, "and we can postpone tomorrow's discussion with M<sup>e</sup> Pascal and Mme Khandakar if necessary, but as you yourself said five minutes ago, tonight is too important. <em>Take the aspirin</em>."</p>
<p>Ladybug vanishes behind a rooftop.</p>
<p>Plagg shoots out of hiding the moment Adrien's closed his bedroom door. Between his body type and his antigravity effect, Adrien's kwami can't do the spooky-cat pose that floods Adrien's Tumblr dash every October, but it's clear from his bottle-brush tail and the glints of tiny unsheathed claws that Plagg is just that spooked. "Tikki," he says. "I—"</p>
<p>"I know," Adrien says, unreliable knees sliding him down to the floor. His stomach keeps falling, falling, and he knows it's not the fall that kills you but— "God<em>damn</em> I fucked up, huh?"</p>
<p>Twenty-five thousand nine hundred thirteen—he still wakes often with the number ringing in his head, seconds ticking up to three hundred he dares not reach, before he remembers he doesn't need to count second chances anymore, before the calendar tells him it's not that two-month day anymore, before he spots Ladybug and feels the sunshine tell him she's all right—</p>
<p>Plagg turns away.</p>
<p>Adrien shoves himself back up and goes to get the chunk of Abbaye de Belloc he stashed, that Plagg either has eaten already or has been politely pretending he doesn't know it's there. It's the second: Adrien holds it out. "Here. I was saving this for a bribe," he admits, "but…"</p>
<p>Plagg hovers unmoving.</p>
<p>"Fair warning," Adrien adds, sitting slumped on the cold bed and dropping the cheese on the blanket beside him, "I'm allowing us thirty more seconds to wallow in desolation, and then we're fixing this."</p>
<p>They can't. They've lost.</p>
<p>Hawkmoth hasn't won. Not yet. He does not have Plagg and he does not have the ring. Adrien can ensure he never will. He has sneaked enough cash from the accounts his father co-owns to an account no one knows about that he can catch the train to London several times over, though once will do. The last train on that route runs about 21h, he thinks; they can be out of Paris in an hour or two. After that, who knows—but Hawkmoth can't enslave a kwami he can't find.</p>
<p>But Chat Noir protects. Ladybug rescues. <em>Ladybug</em> rescues, and it is Chat Noir's task before all else to ensure she <em>can</em>. To take the hits and attract the attention, to throw himself on the grenade if need be, to die or to be turned against her if that is what it takes to keep her alive and free <em>to</em> rescue.</p>
<p>He's failed her. Chat Noir has <em>failed</em> and Ladybug has <em>lost</em>.</p>
<p>Adrien should worry about what will happen now, with Tikki forced to dance to Hawkmoth's tune as Nooroo has been: Nooroo, whose wielder lent Ondine the power to drown all of Paris and Aurore the power to lever the earth out of orbit, and Tikki, whose wielder then—and Tikki's power, like Plagg's, is a deafening waterfall, when she herself wields it; it is Ladybug who can direct it, as a fire hose or a water pistol—</p>
<p>His mind spooks at the thought, yowling, cat spine arched: it bolts, clawing at the inside of his skull to get away from the idea of Tikki and Nooroo pulling in harness under the crack of Hawkmoth's whip.</p>
<p>Ladybug will never bump his fist in victory again.</p>
<p>Ladybug, who would not hesitate to free him if he were akumatized. Ladybug, who would act to retake Plagg if he were taken.</p>
<p>(Ladybug, who has been <em>telling him</em> he takes nothing seriously, and that's <em>why</em> she only considers kissing him when it's of tactical value or she's not herself—)</p>
<p>Adrien lifts his head from his hands.</p>
<p>Ladybug will never do their victory fistbump again?</p>
<p>That is not an outcome he will allow.</p>
<p>Plagg looks up from the crumbs of Abbaye de Belloc on the blanket beside him.</p>
<p>"He won't want her to let on she's been akumatized," Adrien says. This isn't Heroes' Day, when Hawkmoth's strategy relied on exhausting them, terrifying the city, and exhausting them some more, and only once they were overwhelmed moving to take their Miraculouses. "Paris's trust in her is too valuable. She might say I have been, though. Or that I'm controlled again. No one," he adds bitterly, "will doubt that."</p>
<p>"So we're telling everyone first?" Plagg asks.</p>
<p>Shaking his head, Adrien gets out his phone. "Not everyone. I like Paris trusting my partner too. Just the person who's most at risk right now, next to you and me."</p>
<p>(Adrien's always labeled his phone contacts by relevance. Family, friends, and Nathalie are in by name alone; his bodyguard is under 'Gorille'. If he has the number of Margot or Marie or Madeleine, her first name is given as 'Model-Margot' or whatever. Tutors likewise, except he's not sure he knows more than two of their given names; Nathalie is otherwise categorized, and the other—)</p>
<p>Calling: Tutor-Mandarin Chén.</p>
<p>"Hello, Adrien," says Master Fù.</p>
<p>"We're fucked," Adrien says, blunt like a murder weapon. "If she knows where to find you, grab your valuables and <em>run</em>."</p>
<p>"She may. Why?" How is this man always so blasted <em>calm</em>? "What has happened?"</p>
<p>Adrien shakes his head, though the call is audio-only. "Let's pray the butterfly got a hair ribbon. Do you know anything about our teammates?"</p>
<p>"Only the obvious." He is less easily heard: hopefully on speaker, using both hands to pack. "Do you need—"</p>
<p>"No." He doesn't know if Master Fù knows anyone's names but Ladybug's, Queen Bee's, and Chat Noir's own. It never occurred to Adrien to tell him Marinette's or Kagami's names himself, since Ladybug said Multimouse and Ryūko wouldn't be returning; nor Luka's, for fear Master Fù would let slip to Ladybug that Chat Noir knew Viperion <em>was</em> Luka and not Adrien; nor Alix's, since Bunnyx isn't even <em>real</em> yet. He could now, but—he is unaccountably nervous about saying more than the bare minimum aloud. Master Fù must know Carapace, Viperion, Pégase, and Roi Singe by sight, but that doesn't mean he knows their names or where to find them.</p>
<p>Equally to the point, Chloé will most likely make things worse.</p>
<p>"Not yet," Adrien amends, because he'd rather work with Queen Bee, and <em>far</em> rather work with any of the others, than work alone, if he can't get Rena Rouge or Carapace or—</p>
<p>Carapace, who first appeared when <em>Alya</em> was in danger.</p>
<p>"I have an idea. I don't <em>like</em> it," Adrien clarifies, "because she knows them both and I don't."</p>
<p>Ladybug <em>chose</em> both Rena Rouge and Carapace, after all. Ladybug knew on Heroes' Day she'd find them inseparable. Ladybug corrected Chat Noir's assumption about Rena's pronouns before Rena themself had the nerve to take that public. Ladybug always seems to know when Carapace (or Rena, but more often Carapace) has another responsibility someone needs to cover before she can count on this help. They're both good teammates—competent, trustworthy, he wouldn't want to choose anyone else—but <em>Ladybug</em> is who knows their names.</p>
<p>"But," says Adrien, "it's worth a shot."</p>
<p>And he is painfully aware that only Ladybug's refusal to learn Chat Noir's name has kept Plagg safe this far. But it still feels like poison-laced secrets. Like distrust.</p>
<p>"Can you get to where we first met? Safely," Adrien emphasizes. "Unseen."</p>
<p>"I am on my way." Master Fù disconnects.</p>
<p>Adrien pockets his phone and grabs his school bag, dumping the nonessentials, which is to say, everything but the rainbow Camembert, the emergency Camembert, and a few more wheels of Camembert. "Okay, Plagg. Let's go."</p>
<p>"Claws staying in?" Plagg asks, suspicious.</p>
<p>"She can track my baton," Adrien reminds him, and snags a hoodie.</p><hr/>
<p>Alya's running along the lane, coat unzipped so they won't overheat, trying to focus on where they're going more than Nino's video call, but Ladybug's swinging him to where she told Alya to meet them both and that means hella shaky cam and more rushing-wind noise than words. It's all right, though, as long as Chat Noir doesn't see them, doesn't realize Rena Rouge is about to come take him down.</p>
<p><i>What is Paris going to do without its better hero?</i> Ladybug asked, voice shrill and trembling. <i>What could Hawkmoth do with either of our Miraculouses? I <strong>saw</strong> the butterfly, Alya—</i></p>
<p>This will be the world's worst akuma fight.</p>
<p>They miss a call from an unknown number.</p>
<p>A text notification drops, hiding Nino's hat and hand:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Unknown:</i> alya it's chat noir, urgent mission for ladyblogger</p>
  <p><i>Unknown:</i> lb got butterflied. tell paris i need rena rouge and carapace</p>
</blockquote><p>—Okay, yes, if one of Paris's protectors gets akumatized, they will both say the other was, they will both call reinforcements, it won't be clear who to trust: that's—that's a strategic decision Hawkmoth could make.</p>
<p>Pretty good one, too.</p>
<p><em>Shit</em>.</p>
<p>"Hey, Nino," Alya says, and maybe no little gods are listening right now—or, in the case of Ladybug's friend, able to act—but maybe a benevolent big God or two is. Zarenyen the Spider, maybe; seems He and Trixx might get along. "One of the labyrinth guards stabs people who ask tricky questions."</p>
<p>Their left foot lands on their right shoelace, again, again. The knot loosens, loosens, sends them sprawling shoeless: their phone flies from their hand.</p>
<p>—Okay, shit, that <em>hurt</em>, but there's no time to tend the graveled, bleeding scrapes. Alya picks themself up, fixes their shoe, and sneaks over to their phone: the call was on the front-facing camera and it landed screen down. Good. They thumb the phone off, waiting to pick it up until they're sure it's shut down entirely. The screen's cracked, which will hit their wallet where it hurts if Ladybug can't fix it, but when they turn it on again, it works okay. There's a text waiting:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Nino </i><span>🎧</span><i>:</i> xkcd wtf?</p>
</blockquote><p>Yes!</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><span>🗞</span><i> Alya:</i> TRUST BUT VERIFY</p>
</blockquote><p>Nino's going to be on his own for a bit, though. They tuck themself in the nearest out-of-the-way spot, switch on the do-not-disturb, and call the unknown number.</p>
<p>"Oh, good," says Chat Noir. He's jammed himself into a gray stone corner, pupils distressingly circular, cat ears upright and swiveling. "I hate to ask, Alya, I know you'll get floods of spam." His voice is rapid and trembling, where Ladybug's was steady and strong. "But I don't know how to reach Carapace or Rena without asking the whole world. And I don't want to say why," he adds. "<em>Help</em>."</p>
<p>Not asking the whole world? Easy. Getting Rena Rouge, Carapace, and whichever of Ladybug and Chat Noir is themself right now on the same page without the other one reading ahead?</p>
<p>Little harder.</p>
<p>"Just Rena Rouge and Carapace?" Alya asks. They know Chat Noir knows Queen Bee's name—he might have contacted Chloé already. He might not want to because Chloé is notorious for making him and Ladybug work harder than they need to. He might not want to because Venom can bring him down. They don't know if he knows any other heroes' names. "Not Queen Bee or—"</p>
<p>Chat Noir swallows back what might be a growl. "Not yet. Ladybug probably grabbed her most competent and trustworthy people first." Is their burning face pride at the commendation? Or shame because Alya knows they and Nino were convenient, not considered at length, and when they were first asked to give back Trixx's pendant, Alya almost hadn't? Good thing he can't see them blush. "Strategy talk first," he says. "I just." He glances sideways, mouth twisting unpleasantly. "I'm <em>not</em> a solo artist."</p>
<p>Alya nods, sticking that in the <i>identity hints</i> folder for later. "Got a screening question?" they ask. It's not what they'd do if they trusted him, but it's what they would do if they did and they weren't Rena Rouge. And if they can't, it still buys time. "Something only Carapace and Rena Rouge would know what you meant?"</p>
<p>"Uhhh." Chat bites his lip. "It's a good idea!" he hastily points out. "And I probably only need to alert one to get both?"</p>
<p>Alya tilts their head, inquiring.</p>
<p>"You saw the Heroes' Day footage too," Chat reminds them. "Whatever their connection, it was already strong enough that, when Hawkmoth weaponized it, they got <em>terrifying</em>. It didn't get that strong in half an hour."</p>
<p>"That makes sense." No point in Alya—either the real one or the totally-not-Rena one they need to be until they know who they're talking to—asking more on that. Waste of time. "Okay, is there anything either of them would know that no one else but you would? Maybe something you said to one of them that nobody else heard?"</p>
<p>They can't think of anything Ladybug was out of earshot for, though, even by pitiful human sensory standards. (Nino doesn't think Carapace hears better than Nino ordinarily does, though he said his improved color sensitivity is a trip, and Alya doesn't know about any of the others. But Rena Rouge can hear <em>everything</em>.) The closest Chat might get to something only he and Rena know is what they said to each other while Ladybug was announcing the illusory amusement park to the Sapotis, and that isn't all that helpful.</p>
<p>"Hang on," Chat says, frowning up at something behind the camera. "Let me think…" A long moment, and he shakes his head. "Damn it. I've never really been alone with either of them."</p>
<p>"And Ladybug reads the Ladyblog," Alya says. "Probably gets update notifications."</p>
<p>He scrubs one clawed hand down his face and sighs, chin drooping to his chest. "Yeah."</p>
<p>(They don't have time to review footage of Ladybug fighting a compromised Chat Noir, and none exists of the reverse. They haven't seen or heard much of Ladybug tonight, not enough in itself to notice anything off and not at all since hearing something might be, and they have no way to know if this is Chat Noir's usual self under stress or only a convincing mimicry. They do not know yet if it's a greater risk to tip Ladybug off than not to.)</p>
<p>Then he straightens, expression firming. "All right. New plan. Forget Rena Rouge and Carapace."</p>
<p>—What?</p>
<p>Chat Noir grins at Alya, and only his still-round catlike eyes betray he <em>isn't</em> confident and fearless. "How would <em>you</em> like to be a superhero?"</p>
<p>Alya drops their phone.</p><hr/>
<p>Chat Noir is about eighty-five percent certain Ladybug got to Alya first: they were blinking too much to be anything but nervous, and Ladybug has beaten a possessed Chat Noir often enough that an akumatized Chat Noir probably isn't the nightmare fuel it honestly should be. But Alya agreed to go meet Ladybug's unnamed mentor, on the condition Chat Noir came with them: absurdly dangerous if Chat can't be trusted. Unless they're a minion or a collaborator, baiting him into Ladybug's trap?</p>
<p>Whatever. He figured out how to disable location services before calling Alya, noting the map placed Ladybug on the Tour Eiffel end of that bridge, near where he transformed and well away from here. Ladybug <em>wants</em> Chat to come find her. Probably expects him to lose all sense of reason and come both too soon and alone.</p>
<p>Alya's passing Tom &amp; Sabine's now, scanning the streets and skyline with one hand raised to block the streetlights, and he sees their stride falter when they spot his silhouette on the Collège Françoise Dupont roof. They keep going, though, checking for traffic and ignoring the don't-walk, and they're almost to the front steps when a tiny green blur shoots out of the bushes and flies rings around their startled head.</p>
<p>…Hey, wait a minute.</p>
<p>Wayzz—or so Chat assumes; he's seeing lime, not teal—leads Alya back to the bushes. There's a flare of orange light and a delighted squeak, some hurried murmuring—which Miraculous, Chat wonders instead of listening, would Alya be best suited to? perhaps more accurately, of the Miraculouses they have without wielders, which do they most need in play, even if clumsily wielded? or would Alya be ill enough suited to all those they could most use that it's better to give them the one they'll work best with?—and another orange flash and a green one, and Rena Rouge bounds up beside him.</p>
<p>"Huh," says Chat Noir, looking them up and down. Rena probably masses the same as Alya ordinarily does, but they've traded some fat for muscle—<em>un</em>fair: he's had to <em>work</em> for this buff physique—and colored and styled their hair; did the magic reshape their eyes or does the mask correct their vision? (Does it matter?) "I did not see that coming. Turn off your location."</p>
<p>"I figured," says Rena, setting down the phone and carved boxes they carry and taking out their flute. "Wayzz says Tikki is angry and hurting and Plagg is terrified, so he believes you."</p>
<p>Chat shrugs, looking out over the city. "So was I right? I'm recruiting Nino soon either way."</p>
<p>Not next, but very soon. Next is Marinette, he hopes, and only partly because her home is closest; sometimes she's the bravest and most capable person Adrien knows bar his lady, and sometimes her anxiety is thoroughly disabling, and hopefully with magic armor and a cool toy, Chat Noir can bring that first Marinette out to play. The cool toy doesn't even have to be Multimouse's.</p>
<p>"Don't." Rena frowns at the ladybug marker on the map their flute is projecting. "He's a few blocks northeast, unless Ladybug ditched him elsewhere. But she might not have found anyone else yet." They look back at him, somber. "I hate everything about this."</p>
<p>"Join the party."</p>
<p>Alya's phone lights up. Rena grabs it, unlocks it, swears in a language he doesn't know. "Mirage!" they whisper-snarl, pressing a finger to Chat's lips: both heroes and boxes shimmer out of sight.</p>
<p>A few blocks northeast, red-gold light blazes, silhouetting the tiny figure of Ladybug swinging toward them.</p>
<p>Chat's pulse rushes in his ears. He can smell Alya's gardenia soap, feel the trembling of Rena's gloved fingertip, hear both their shallow breathing—but for all he can see, the rooftop is dark and empty. Discomfiting.</p>
<p>Ladybug lands, straightens, looks around; checks her yo-yo, looks around again. "I don't see them," she says. The argon butterfly mask flares: "No, Rena was definitely here a moment ago, I saw their tracker," she snaps. "Maybe they went inside and dropped the mask. Maybe they blocked me off and ran, just like Chat Noir did. Feel free to tell me if you think of any other possibilities."</p>
<p>He clamps his jaw, pressing his teeth painfully together to hold back the yowl building in his throat. She sounds angry with him, but only in the same way she ever is with ordinary akuma who prove difficult. (<a id="return01" name="return01"></a>Her using 'vous' for Hawkmoth instead of 'tu' is equally unnerving.<sup>[<a href="#note01">01</a>]</sup>) Even the worst fights he and Ladybug have ever had—that is, the worst fights he remembers them having—and even the nightmare Sandboy gave him—</p>
<p>"You didn't bargain for Rena's name," Ladybug tells Hawkmoth icily—stiffens, hisses, a sound that stabs Chat's heart: "You <em>didn't</em>! I'll look inside." She flips down into the courtyard and out of sight.</p>
<p>Rena's fingertip traces from Chat's mouth down his neck and torso: they unzip his pockets and zip a box in each. A moment, and the back of their glove is cool on his cheek, turning his face towards the bakery.</p>
<p>Chat nods. They let go. He moves.</p>
<p>Marinette isn't on her balcony when a thump announces Rena's landing, a moment behind Chat's arrival. Her room is dark, he sees through the skylight, and her bed empty, and only silence follows his rapping on the glass.</p>
<p>"Move," whispers Rena, and Chat goes to the railing, watching the school. He can't tell if she's followed them, but—</p>
<p>Northeast, his city is burning.</p>
<p>He hears the latch click open. "Close it behind you," whispers Rena, and when he comes over he can see Marinette's bedding indented and tugged: he drops through the skylight, avoiding the moving spots, and closes it again.</p>
<p>An orange shimmer, and Chat can see himself again, and Rena, her pendant signaling under two minutes. "Let's rest," they mutter, and the fox kwami spirals into sight, then zooms out of view as a scraped-up Alya climbs out of the loft. "So I can make people not see things that are there, as well as see things that aren't," they say wearily, sinking onto the chaise. "Good to know."</p>
<p>"Good thinking," Chat tells them, and, hearing himself, belatedly hopes his tone doesn't make him sound insincere. "Why? How did you know?"</p>
<p>Alya waves their phone. Chat leaps down to look at the texts they show him:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Nino </i><span>🎧</span><i>:</i> xkcd wtf?</p>
  <p><span>🗞</span><i> Alya:</i> TRUST BUT VERIFY</p>
  <p><i>Nino </i><span>🎧</span><i>:</i> at school?</p>
</blockquote><p>The fourth text of the night looks nonsensical. "She's what now?" Chat asks: if Nino meant 'crazy' (which hasn't been news since Stoneheart anyway), he'd say <a id="return02" name="return02"></a>'elle folle', not 'elle fou'<sup>[<a href="#note02">02</a>]</sup>.</p>
<p>"xkcd 246," says Alya. "Knights and Knaves—" (The nouns are in English.) "—or, you know, fucked." <a id="return03" name="return03"></a>Okay, yeah, Nino could have sent the text partway into 'fourbe' or any of various forms of 'foutre', and he certainly didn't mean 'chevalier'.<sup>[<a href="#note03">03</a>]</sup> "What do you know about her akumasona?"</p>
<p>Chat shrugs, watching them type a new text. "Nothing useful. Except for the direct line to Hawkmoth, I haven't seen her do anything she can't usually. Or heard her say anything she wouldn't usually," he adds. "I think. Give or take the bit where you're not <em>her</em> enemy."</p>
<p>Alya presses send:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><span>🗞</span><i> Alya:</i> you're a lifesaver. up to racing, slowpoke?</p>
</blockquote><p>"So either she told you she got akumatized," Alya reasons, "or you saw her get akumatized, or she acted like Chameleon's take on Adrien, maybe. Scarily out of character."</p>
<p>Like ice, shattered. Chat scans Marinette's room. "Hey, fox kwami," he says. "What do you eat?"</p>
<p>"My name's Trixx," says the kwami, muffled, and pops open a drawer in Marinette's vanity. "What's available?"</p>
<p>"I don't know!" Chat snaps: too loud, too harsh—he grabs his temper by the scruff and shakes himself. "I don't know," he repeats, less vicious. "What should I look for? Cheese, cookies, bread, meat, fruit, greens?"</p>
<p>"Meat or fruit," Trixx says, wrestling a white box over the edge of the vanity drawer. It overbalances and tips out onto them, and bursts open when it hits the floor, scattering bandages and medications. They phase out of the overturned kit. "Red is better both ways."</p>
<p>Chat nods, going to look for a washcloth. "What about Wayzz and the others?" Alya isn't carrying the full-sized Miracle Box, though. "Wait, who else do we have?" <a id="return04" name="return04"></a>He unzips his pockets to check: he's carrying one box labeled 龍 and one labeled 蜜蜂.<sup>[<a href="#note04">04</a>]</sup> "Longg and Pollen here. Alya?"</p>
<p>"Wayzz says Bee, Dragon, and Rabbit."</p>
<p>"—Rabbit," Chat Noir repeats, irritated, setting two clean washcloths on the vanity. "I am not knocking the Rabbit, the Rabbit is <em>badass</em>—hell, I'm not knocking Dragon or Bee, either—but seriously, no Rat?"</p>
<p>Alya frowns. "We haven't seen Rabbit <em>or</em> Rat in action, though. —Have we?"</p>
<p>"Not on video."</p>
<p>Chat wheels around to stalk across Marinette's room. He can—they can work with this. Bunnyx's identity is at least as well-kept a secret as most of the team's—why Ladybug feels she can trust <em>Adrien</em> with Viperion's identity when she doesn't know Adrien is anyone but the Snake wielder who never gave himself a cute name, especially when she booted Multimouse for nothing worse than assuming <em>Chat Noir</em> was trustworthy—</p>
<p>He pivots away from smelling that rat with practiced ease, pacing the floor. If Marinette takes the Dragon and Kagami the Bee, then he has two powerhouses on his team without involving Multimouse, Ryūko, <em>or</em> Chloé. And this time he'll make sure to tell Marinette the five-minute safety guideline on whatever they cast is there to protect <em>both</em> sides of the equation. Most of why she was famished, drowsy, and popping so many paracetamol after the Kwamibuster attack was because wielding two Miraculouses at once is never safe: he supposes Ladybug underestimated how badly being both Cat and Rat would hit Marinette, and he hopes <em>someone</em> was caring for his fool lady after bedecking herself with the rest, even if she did only transform with Trixx and Tikki and those separately. But some of the effect on Marinette has to have been because there's no way she spent fewer than seven minutes as a whole mischief of Multimice.</p>
<p>—<em>Focus</em>. "Wayzz, Pollen, Fluff, and Longg. Carrots and honey, right?"</p>
<p>"Honey for Pollen, carrots for Fluff," confirms Trixx, studying Alya's scraped knees up close. "Longg loves spicy foods, the hotter the better. Wayzz especially likes tea, but he'll eat anything he can swallow and he'll like most of it."</p>
<p>That last sounds suspicious, especially from a fox, but he lets it pass. "Alya, anything?"</p>
<p>They shake their head, typing. "Not hungry. And I see you two plotting to deal with my <em>very minor</em> injuries that <em>I</em> inflicted so the akuma wouldn't know I was talking to <em>you</em>," they add. "Don't bother. Ladybug will fix those with Miraculous Cure, as always."</p>
<p>"Alya—"</p>
<p>Adrien's seen butterflies pinned to cards before, wings spread in a way not possible in life. Under Alya's glare, Chat feels like a butterfly. "Ladybug," they say, biting out each syllable, "will fix those, <em>as always</em>."</p>
<p>"We don't—"</p>
<p>Chat cuts himself off and breathes. They're right. They must be right. They <em>have</em> to be right, or—</p>
<p>(One akuma attack was an entomologist furious at people killing butterflies thinking they were akumas; Dr. Hafner still has a point, about both that and the poisoning of phrases like 'social butterfly' and 'butterfly effect', but she also admitted afterwards, chagrined, that she hadn't noticed the akuma <em>wasn't</em> a male <i>Apatura ilia</i> until too late. Lesser purple emperor butterflies aren't, she said, <em>that</em> purple. And she doesn't have to <em>like</em> what's happened to the connotations of 'butterflies in your stomach', she said, to understand, viscerally, <em>why</em>.)</p>
<p>Evenly, he says, "I'm going to get Trixx some food. They need to recharge even if you don't. Since we aren't going anywhere for a few minutes anyway, you should clean yourself up."</p>
<p><a id="return05" name="return05"></a>Alya snorts, returning to their phone a little too slow to hide the flash of relief at his calling Trixx 'iel', not 'elle' or 'il'.<sup>[<a href="#note05">05</a>]</sup> "I've gotten worse on my bike."</p>
<p>"I don't care." The marks on Alya's palms and showing through their torn jeans are black in the diffuse glow of their phone screen. In better light, they would be red. "You don't need to fight hurt."</p>
<p>They don't look up. "You don't need to waste time."</p>
<p>"You don't need," Chat says, restraining his snarl, "to fight <em>distracted</em>."</p>
<p>"I'm—!"</p>
<p>Alya stops. Looks up at him. Over at Trixx, perched on the vanity faucet.</p>
<p>With clear effort, they compose themself. "Nino will be here in a few minutes," they say, and go to sort through the overturned first aid kit.</p>
<p>Chat heads downstairs and starts poking through the kitchen. There's a container in the refrigerator with <i>kung pao chicken</i> scribbled on its masking-tape label; he puts it on the counter, three carrots and a packet of deli-sliced roast beef beside it, and there's a half jar of honey on the tea shelf; cookies are…down in the bakery for sure, and probably not up here at all. Really, where else would they be?</p>
<p>Also, that croissant has his name on it.</p>
<p>On a strip of receipt paper he yanked out of the register, he tallies up the purchase price of everything he's taking from the bakery, adds lines guessing at the ingredients and labor costs of what he left upstairs (so that he only has to drop the mask in the bathroom once to get the lot in his school bag), estimates the total, and writes <i>I'll pay you back ASAP</i>, then signs with a cute little paw print with <i>CN</i> on the big pad. He checks the side door on his way past with the bakery box, ripping a mouthful off his croissant: Nino won't have to ring the bakery door's bell to get in, but odd that Chat didn't have to unlock it.</p>
<p>Alya's footsteps above him are too noisy: Adrien isn't as stealthy as Chat Noir no matter how he tries, but—now that Alya and Nino's new favorite date activity, couples' parkour, has context—haven't they even tried putting any skill points into—</p>
<p>Ladybug is standing in Marinette's living room.</p><hr/>
<p>Alya heads downstairs, their scrapes patched up and the borrowed messenger bag full of Miraculous boxes and scarily well-stocked first-aid kit over her shoulder. (Sutures? Scalpels? Ketamine? <em>Rose and Juleka</em> wouldn't know how to safely use some of this, emergency medical training or no!) Trixx is a disconcerting warmth somewhere around their liver. If Marinette's here—well, it's up to Ladybug, of course—that is, it's up to Chat Noir—but having their best friend be a superhero too would be <em>super sweet</em>. Maybe they were already planning to give Marinette the Rabbit or Dragon? Or—since Chloé is supposed to be off the roster—</p>
<p>"Do you know where your daughter is?" asks Ladybug, bitingly cold, and loud enough to be plainly audible from Marinette's room, at least with the trap door open; two steps below the master-bedroom floor, Alya freezes. Ladybug continues, "There's someone I need to find."</p>
<p>"—Is Marinette in danger?" asks M. Dupain. Alya can't see him from here; he must be in the living room or kitchen with Ladybug—</p>
<p>"Of course she is." Alya read a mini murder mystery once, the kind one flips to the back of the book to find out if one's solved it right: the murder weapon couldn't be found, and someone had spilled water by the blood on the rug. Ladybug's tone reminds them of that icicle. "They say she's a liar, didn't you know?" Ladybug continues, sharp and serrated. "All her classmates. All her friends. All her family."</p>
<p>Mme Cheng slips out of the master bedroom and catches sight of Alya, who puts a finger to their lips and gets out their phone.</p>
<p>"Haven't you yourself told her she can't lie about where she's going or where she's been?" Ladybug asks.</p>
<p>Alya shows Mme Cheng their notes app:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>that's the akuma</p>
</blockquote><p>"I don't care about that!" M. Dupain says—then shouts. Mme Cheng stifles her gasp. Alya smells smoke.</p>
<p>"Ah, <em>a-ah</em>," says Ladybug, singsong. "Don't lie to me, now."</p>
<p>M. Dupain sounds pained: "Of course I care. We taught her to value honesty. But we also taught her there are more important things."</p>
<p>Ladybug hums, a noncommittal sound. Alya thinks about the layout of the building, where Ladybug is most likely standing in relation to the doors and windows, where Chat Noir must be.</p>
<p>"My daughter's in danger, Ladybug," pleads M. Dupain. "Help her!"</p>
<p>"What do you think I'm doing?" She sounds honestly curious. Alya creeps farther down the stairs.</p>
<p>One step creaks.</p>
<p>"Who's there?" snaps Ladybug.</p>
<p>"Sabine!" exclaims M. Dupain.</p>
<p>Mme Cheng hurries down, passing Alya with a brief tight smile. "Ladybug," she says once downstairs, sounding nervous. "What's wrong?"</p>
<p>"People keep lying to me." There's a twist to her tone that Alya can't identify: it reminds her of nothing so much as Marinette trying to slander Lila. Ladybug has never sounded like that. But then, Ladybug has never told an untruth except to set a trap. "People don't <em>trust</em> me," Ladybug spits, and that <em>is</em> a lie, or else a falsehood <em>Akumabug</em> believes. Ladybug doesn't; she can't; it's not possible. "People say I am a liar and <em>do you know where your daughter is</em>?"</p>
<p>—Oh no. Oh no no fuck no dear Gods <em>no</em>. Akumabug is after <em>Marinette</em>.</p>
<p>"She's not home," Mme Cheng says steadily, moving closer to the living room, out of Alya's line of sight. "I haven't seen her since breakfast."</p>
<p>"Then who's upstairs?"</p>
<p>No one, technically. Alya's on the lowest stair that's certain to keep them unseen until Akumabug actually comes to <em>look</em>—trying not to breathe, not to drop their phone, not to let their heart pound loud enough to overhear—but they're not upstairs.</p>
<p>M. Dupain clears his throat. "No one else is here, Ladybug."</p>
<p>Something crackles out, bonfire-sharp, sizzling like sausage in the pan. "Liar!"</p>
<p>Shadow-silent, Chat Noir slips into view: he glances a little to his right, towards the kitchen area, ears flickering to catch any sound, but his attention is on the living room.</p>
<p>"No one's upstairs!" says Mme Cheng. "No one's upstairs, Ladybug, Ladybug, <em>please</em>—"</p>
<p>Chat's gaze flicks sideways and up: he spots Alya, then Marinette's messenger bag, and points first at them, then at the door behind him. Staff in hand, he moves a little farther into the room, clearly meaning to shield Alya's escape.</p>
<p>"So the roast beef is your midnight snack, then?" asks Akumabug. "With carrots and honey?"</p>
<p>And Chat can only carry so much in his other hand, and sticking around the bakery long enough to raid <em>that</em> refrigerator sounds suicidal. Alya takes both Miraculous boxes out of the bag and adjusts their grip on the strap.</p>
<p>"—All three macronutrients?" M. Dupain gasps for breath—he shouts—Mme Cheng <em>screams</em>—</p>
<p>Alya leaps, slinging the bag strap over Chat's head, and throws themself out the open door.</p>
<p>The fire alarm starts shrilling and strobing before they get to the cold outdoor air. Nino's running for the park entrance, a bakery box in his arms: he jinks left under the trees just past the gate; they keep following.</p>
<p>Behind them, a <em>boom</em>; before them, their shadows outlined in hot crackling gold; the overwhelming smell of burning pork; the sound of heavy rain.</p>
<p><a id="return06" name="return06"></a>Alya catches up to Nino, checks which Miraculous box is which, and shoves the one with a T-shaped space in its ideographic label at him. (If they just lost Chat Noir, they hope and pray the other one they're holding, the one with the plain-ish box for a first ideograph, is the Bee.<sup>[<a href="#note06">06</a>]</sup> They know almost nothing about the Dragon and nothing at all about the Rabbit. <em>Nothing</em>!) "Turn off your location <em>first</em>," they warn. "Trixx, get out here."</p>
<p>Nino stops with a tree between him and the bakery and stands there trembling, as Trixx darts out to circle them both and Wayzz appears in a burst of light. "I don't think," Nino says, frowning at the dark damp splotches on his shirt as he slides the bracelet on, "I'm ever eating bacon again."</p>
<p><i>That ought to make your grandmother happy,</i> Alya doesn't say. Mama Lahiffe isn't a practicing Muslim, and Nino never was.</p>
<p>But Alya saw Ladybug staring down Alya's friend's parents, searing M. Dupain for telling a lie to protect <em>Alya</em>. However strongly they know this is nothing <em>Ladybug</em> would ever even think of doing, nothing in Akumabug's stance spoke of anything but blazing fury and determination, and even had Alya seen her face, they doubt they would have spotted a flicker of hesitation.</p>
<p>They bet Mme Cheng told Chat Noir to leave her there.</p>
<p>"I think," they do say, stomach churning, and pauses to cough: "I think I'm going vegetarian."</p>
<p>"Lucky you," mutters Chat Noir, dropping out of the tree and shaking glass shards from his hair. "I'm an obligate carnivore. But hey!" He pats Marinette's bulging messenger bag with a wide fake grin. "At least we got the fucking snacks."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Content notes: torture, description of burnt flesh. <sup>[<a href="#creturn02">return</a>]</sup><br/> </p>
<p><a id="note01" name="note01"></a><i>01:</i> 'vous' is the formal French second-person singular pronoun; the casual is 'tu'. <sup>[<a href="#return01">return</a>]</sup></p>
<p><a id="note02" name="note02"></a><i>02:</i> 'folle' and 'fou' both mean 'crazy': 'folle' is feminine and thus grammatically correct to call Ladybug, where 'fou', being masculine, is not. <sup>[<a href="#return02">return</a>]</sup></p>
<p><a id="note03" name="note03"></a><i>03:</i> 'fourbe': swinder; deceitful. 'foutre': to fuck. 'chevalier': knight. <sup>[<a href="#return03">return</a>]</sup></p>
<p><a id="note04" name="note04"></a><i>04:</i> 龍: Mandarin 'lóng'; Japanese 'ryū'; English 'dragon'. 蜜蜂: Mandarin 'mìfēng'; Japanese 'mitsubachi'; English 'honeybee'. <sup>[<a href="#return04">return</a>]</sup></p>
<p><a id="note05" name="note05"></a><i>05:</i> The feminine third-person singular subject French pronoun, equivalent to English 'she', is 'elle'. The masculine, equivalent to 'he', is 'il'. According to nonbinary French people, the gender-neutral is 'iel'. It's making a certain sort of French grammar stickler about as happy as a certain sort of English grammar stickler is with singular 'they'. <sup>[<a href="#return05">return</a>]</sup></p>
<p><a id="note06" name="note06"></a><i>06:</i> 龜: Mandarin 'guī'; English 'turtle'. 白兔: Mandarin 'báitù'; English 'white rabbit'. <sup>[<a href="#return06">return</a>]</sup><br/> </p>
<p>Awesome betas are awesome! Thank you to: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gullwhacker/profile"></a><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gullwhacker"><b>Gullwhacker</b></a>; <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/norakwami/profile"></a><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/norakwami"><b>norakwami</b></a>; <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheshireMadd/profile"></a><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheshireMadd"><b>CheshireMadd</b></a>; <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Socchan/profile"></a><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Socchan"><b>Socchan</b></a><a id="random02" name="random02"></a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. a memory I've never known</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>there is only me and you and the thing<br/>that is trying to swallow us.</p><p>in every version of the story there is a fire:<br/>here, burning clothes in the backyard.<br/>here, throwing matches at the home i<br/>don't live in anymore. again and the<br/>highway between our bodies, gone.</p><p>—<i>excerpted from</i> "<a href="https://therisingphoenixreview.com/2017/08/19/blasphemies-at-the-5th-street-station-by-s-osborn/">blasphemies at the 5th street station</a>", s. osborn</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Comm check," says Chat Noir. It's weirdly disconcerting to see Bunnyx this <em>short</em>.</p><p>"Say something," Rena Rouge says over the earpiece. "Anything."</p><p>"Test one two three," says Carapace at once.</p><p>Bunnyx grouches, "Anything but that." She's grinning.</p><p>Chat Noir suddenly has a lot more sympathy for Ladybug's incessant complaints that her partner is unfocused, unprofessional, and—in both senses—laughable.</p><p>"Got a name, new kid?" asks Carapace.</p><p>Bunnyx blinks. "Should I have changed it?"</p><p>"I thought this was your first time?" asks Rena.</p><p>Chat rolls his eyes, for whatever good it does, since Rena and Carapace are outside. "It is. This is Bunnyx," he tells them both. Maybe later he'll wonder who thought of that. "She's our ace in the hole."</p><p>Alix is aroace. Bunnyx lobs a pillow at Chat: "That is the worst pun I have ever heard!"</p><p>"How is that a pun?" asks Carapace.</p><p>"You'll see part of it when she uses her power," Chat says, "which we'd better save for when we know more about what's happening." Bunnyx nods, thoughtful. "And the rest is, why did you get fired from the supermarket?"</p><p>'Supermarket' is in English, where 'dropped the beets' works when spoken; Adrien has already explained to Nino that written English is key to using 'dropped the bass'. Carapace groans. "Not minding my business, I guess."</p><p>"Yep." Chat waves Bunnyx toward the window. "Go meet your teammates. I've got a couple more stops to make."</p><p>Bunnyx throws herself out Alix's open bedroom window. Chat follows: okay, he's proud of how well he sticks his landings, but Bunnyx doesn't even try: she hits the sidewalk tumbling, rolls right back up, and <em>zooms</em> toward the others. In his ear, she crows, "I am the <em>queen</em> of speed!"</p><p>"…inline skates?" Of course she likes speed more than traction. What else was he expecting? Chat follows her, attention on the baton maps app. Kagami's home is—</p><p>"<em>Retractable</em> inline skates!" Bunnyx loops around the gawking Carapace and laughing Rena; if this were ballet, he'd call that an arabesque. (He is not going to squelch her obvious glee. He is not. He is <em>not</em>.) "I don't know where the wheels retract <em>to</em>—" She tries to examine her raised boot without stopping and crashes into Carapace, knocking them both over.</p><p>"I really hate to destroy your fun," says Chat Noir.</p><p>Rena startles. Bunnyx scrambles to her feet, abashed, and offers Carapace a hand up.</p><p>"To Chloé's?" asks Carapace.</p><p>Chat shakes his head and launches himself west. "Not unless you think Marinette's there," he says, glancing back to check they're all following.</p><p>Bunnyx snorts. "Unlikely."</p><p>"—Wait," says Carapace. "Not home, not Alya's, not Nino's—if she'd broken into Adrien's, we'd have heard—"</p><p>That sounds uncomfortably like <i>Marinette hates Adrien</i>. Nino's never even implied that before—entirely the opposite—but this is the first time Nino hasn't known Adrien's listening.</p><p>"If she were babysitting Manon, they'd probably be at the bakery," Rena adds.</p><p>"Juleka's?" asks Bunnyx.</p><p>"Maybe." Luka's, more likely (thinks Chat), but as both live on the <i>Liberty</i>, that's not much of a distinction. "I'm betting not." Kagami's been texting Adrien a lot of selfies with Marinette over the past few weeks. "I might be wrong. But the friend I think <em>will</em> know where she is, conveniently enough, is the next person we're recruiting anyway."</p><p>It takes a few minutes to get there; Chat ignores the debate Rena and Bunnyx are having as they run. He signals a halt, on a roof across from Kagami's apartment building, and realizes he has no idea which window is hers. Kagami's number is saved in his mundane phone, though, and he still doesn't understand what sorcery Ladybug wreaked on that and his baton, but it means he can text her as Chat Noir:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> ryuko</p>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> damn it i don't know where the macron is</p>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> ryuuko</p>
  <p><i>Foiled Again:</i> Who the fuck are you?</p>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> lb's plan had more bath bombs in, i'm just saying</p>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> which window is yours?</p>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> wait shit are you even home</p>
  <p><i>Foiled Again:</i> Fourth floor east side, third apartment from south, I'll signal</p>
</blockquote><p>The fifth fourth-floor window's folding shade slides aside; the silhouette there flashes something bright. Dah-dit-dah-dit dah-dit, and Chat balances on the narrow windowsill while Kagami finishes clearing dangling suncatchers out of the window.</p><p>He glances around the room. "I guess Marinette's not here?"</p><p>Kagami shakes her head, turning to her desk to mark her place in the face-down book and close it. "She's never been here. My mother wouldn't approve."</p><p>Tsurugi-san is in good company, then; Adrien's father doesn't either. They're both <em>wrong</em>, of course, and—would Maman like Marinette? Outside of the dreams he's had since she—left— <i>your mother loves you so much</i>, her voice soothing him awake, promising him <i>it was nothing but a nightmare</i>, promising him <i>I'm right here with you and I always will be</i>, proving his subconscious a liar when Gorilla or Plagg wakes him or Adrien wakes alone—outside of his own imagination, would Maman like Marinette?</p><p>—He's losing focus.</p><p>"And I guess you don't know where she is, either." It takes effort to keep his cat ears upright and turning, not back and flat.</p><p>"No. Should I?"</p><p>"I don't know, I just know you've been hanging out a lot lately." Chat eyes the lucky cat figurine on her desk. "Rena, Bunnyx, want to go check your next thought?"</p><p>"Something's wrong," Kagami realizes, paling.</p><p>"Today's akuma is upset with Marinette," Chat tells her. "I was going to come get you anyway, but I was really hoping we'd find her with you."</p><p>"—I thought I was done."</p><p>"<em>Ryūko</em>'s done," Chat corrects. "Queen Bee should have been done the moment she announced herself, in Ladybug's benefit-of-hindsight opinion." On the comms, Rena snorts. Chat Noir pulls out the box labeled 'honeybee' in hanzi. "Put you in yellow, have Pollen do something different with your hair—totally different hero."</p><p>Kagami stares down at the box, then up at Chat Noir. "The Miraculouses can change what we look like, not just what we're wearing?"</p><p>Chat blinks at her. "Do you really think my eyes ordinarily look like this?"</p><p>"—I suppose not. And Rena Rouge's hair is more colorful than usual?"</p><p>"Very."</p><p>Kagami nods, decisive. "Give me Longg."</p><p>—All right then. Chat was only thinking Marinette for the Dragon because he thought he had to give Kagami the Bee in order to get Kagami on board at all; that was never going to be a good match for either of his friends. Wayzz assured them it would work, but direct attacks aren't really Marinette's style and status effects aren't Kagami's at all. He pockets 'honeybee' and takes out 'dragon'. "First thing after you transform, find your communicator, turn off your location, and put in your earpiece."</p><p>She fits the choker around her neck, grinning at the dragon kwami. "Longg, bring the storm!"</p><p>"—Did you watch <i>The Empire Strikes Back</i> recently?" Chat asks.  Her hair's up in a bun with looped braids hanging from it; he cannot tell if she has actually gotten taller and her face changed shape, or if the elaborate hairstyle and thicker boot soles are helping the identity protection magic convince him she has. Her armor's rotated from Ryūko's red with gold and black accents to goldenrod with black and red accents, and the rose-like accent pattern is almost a mirror of Ryūko's.</p><p>She smirks, finishing fiddling with her screen. "Princess Doctor General Leia is life goals. And has very long hair."</p><p>"I like you," says Rena. "—Hey, wait, Chat Noir, no speeches about returning them this time?"</p><p>"You can all keep these for all I care," Chat tells them, and hears Rena and Bunnyx cheer.</p><p>The Dragon wielder nods. Into the earpiece, she says, "I'm Arashi."</p><p>"Welcome aboard," says Carapace, as Chat leaps back out the window. "Chat, she's still off the radar."</p><p>"Damn it," mutters Chat, as he and Arashi catch up. He's pretty sure it isn't possible for an akumatized transformed Miraculous wielder to drop the mask until the akuma's clear—Queen Bee's mask fell within two seconds of his breaking Queen Wasp's comb, when she had to have gotten akumatized during her last minute before timing out; he doesn't know if Pollen's ever willing to kick a wielder out of the mask but that would have been the time to do it, and even if Pollen won't, Plagg's assured him Tikki <em>has</em>—which means Ladybug <em>doesn't</em> want to be found right now. "No breaking news?"</p><p>"Nothing. Hashtags haven't even noticed those fires are akuma-related. I'm having Juleka Couffaine monitor that and let us know anything useful." Rena Rouge sounds frustrated. "Marinette isn't here, no one who is here has seen or heard from her since she left school this afternoon, and her phone's still going straight to voicemail. Rose Lavillant's calling around, but it's 21h."</p><p>Time for sensible lycéen·ne·s to be getting ready for bed. Must be nice, getting to be sensible.</p><p>"Luka Couffaine wants a word," says Bunnyx, and a moment later, Luka's voice comes over the earpiece: "Need some backup, Chat Noir? I, uh, if you need me to strut my disco stuff."</p><p>Right, Luka wouldn't know Chat Noir knows. "Hold that thought." Chat halts on the next flat roof. Calling: Tutor-Mandarin Chén.</p><p>"<i>You have reached Xiáng Chén,</i>" says Master Fù's voicemail box. "<i>Please leave a message. I will return your call at my earliest opportunity.</i>"</p><p>Chat listens, fuming, as Master Fù's voice repeats the message in Mandarin. At the tone, Chat snaps, "I know I told you to skip town. I <em>also</em> know I told you to <em>meet me first</em>. Do you think there might have been a <em>reason</em> for that?" He hangs up. "Know who'd be a <em>great</em> Tiger wielder?" he demands of whoever's listening. "Viperion's sister." Juleka would use the mask the same way Adrien does: to bring out the claws—and Juleka has <em>vicious</em> claws—without risking anyone thinking <em>Juleka</em> is anything but a harmless shy kitten. "But, you know, both those Miraculouses are the same place as all the others that aren't in my pocket or in use, <em>fuck knows where</em>, probably not Paris—so maybe don't tell her I said that."</p><p>"Ah, you're on speaker," says Juleka.</p><p>Chat swears. Ladybug wouldn't <em>make</em> that mistake. Ladybug wouldn't get so caught up in the rushing roaring anger <em>fear</em> to forget there were <em>people</em>. Ladybug wouldn't—</p><p>Ladybug wouldn't let her partner get akumatized in the <em>first place</em>.</p><p>"You with the shield," he snaps, whirling on Carapace, "want to be a punching bag for a minute?"</p><p>Not with that look like Chat just brained him, Carapace doesn't.</p><p>"I have a better idea," says Arashi, drawing her sword. "I believe you fence?"</p><p>Chat salutes with his saber-length staff. "En garde!"</p><p>Lunge parried—counter-riposte—thrust counterattacked—<em>and</em> he's on his ass. "Touché," he tells her: what else did he expect from giving <em>Tsurugi Kagami</em> a magic sword and armor and taking away the protocol? Because her kicking her opponent's feet out from under him should definitely have been on the obvious list. But he can breathe again. "Thanks, Arashi." Chat accepts Carapace's hand up.</p><p>—Rose is calling around, which means Rose will call Adrien: in fact, Chat notes on his baton, she already <em>has</em>. (He has better sense than to let anyone trying to contact Adrien while he's Chat get a response that doesn't resemble Adrien's phone on silent; it didn't ring.) She followed up with a text:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Optimist Glasses:</i> Chat Noir is trying to find Marinette because an akuma is after her. Have you seen her since she left school?</p>
  <p><i>Model Behavior:</i> a couple hours ago at the Trocadéro, yeah. I think I upset her? no idea where she went after that. Ladybug brought me home.</p>
</blockquote><p>"Do <em>not</em> open that box!" shouts Bunnyx. "Don't even touch it again—just, just get away from it—"</p><p>"What's happening?" Chat snaps.</p><p>"Max Kanté's Instagram," Rena fills in. "He says Ladybug just shot through his bedroom and dropped a bakery box. He says, and my hand to the Holy Ones, this is a direct quote, 'Where's the fire?' "</p><p>Chat swears and grabs his baton again. "Tell him to open his window and stick something there so we know which room, then pull the fire alarm and get the fuck out of range." The hell is Max's address? Adrien's never been there.</p><p>He hears Rose repeating the instructions. "Rena, come meet Arashi," he says. "You two keep looking for Marinette. Carapace, we're going to Max's. Bunnyx, stay put." Alix has read Ray Bradbury's 'A Sound of Thunder', he knows. Recently. And she's been claiming it's English practice when people ask why she has the British and French editions of <i>Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban</i> open to the same page. "Just in case."</p><p>"Because today's akuma likes firebombs, Max!" shrieks Rena, and, audibly even over the earpiece, swallows twice. "Okay. Okay. I'm good. Maybe she's at Nathaniel's, he's ignoring his phone, it isn't off—Arashi, have you met Nathaniel Kurtzberg?"</p><p>The quickest way to Max's, Carapace's maps app shows, takes them fairly close to Place des Vosges. Carapace routes them around: not so far Chat can't see the scarlet- and amber-lit smoke, but distant enough what he's smelling is only memory. The destination building is surrounded by milling pajama-clad people, some covering their eyes or ears against the flashing, shrilling fire alarms, and he catches a glimpse of Markov hovering by a small bulky-coated figure talking to one of the firefighters. Out of one window flaps a red hoodie tied to a pair of black jeans (weighed down, Chat finds, with a small mountain of electronic engineering textbooks), and on Max's desk waits a small T&amp;S box, upside down.</p><p>"Poke it with your staff?" Carapace suggests, his shield raised in front of them.</p><p>"I hate this," mutters Chat, frowning over Carapace's shoulder at the innocent-looking macaron box. "All the angles that keep me behind you are crap on a stick."</p><p>Chat Noir is supposed to be protecting <em>Nino</em> and not the other way around anyway. And he doesn't want to tell the others Mister Bug was not worth much without Ladynoire and Chat Noir is worth nothing without Ladybug. It's <em>true</em>, but so much of why <em>Ladybug</em> has been winning over the city is because she trusts herself enough to pull off her crazy plans to win over the akumas. If she didn't, they'd have lost round two of Stoneheart. And so many battles have pivoted on someone else trusting <em>her</em>—</p><p>He can't shake their trust in him. He doesn't dare.</p><p>"Would someone," Chat grumbles instead, "for the love of little gods, <em>please</em> explain to me how it is that I ended up being the responsible adult on this flying circus when I am neither responsible nor an adult?"</p><p>Carapace shrugs.</p><p>"Shrug emoji," says Bunnyx over the comm; Carapace snorts. Rena adds, "Are any of us responsible adults?"</p><p>Viperion, possibly. Certainly not Master Fù. "Shut up," says Chat.</p><p>The box, when poked, does nothing. Chat pokes it twice more, rolling it first onto its side, then upright. Nothing catches fire when he nudges the lid up, either.</p><p>"Those just look like little bitty macarons," Carapace says. "With a whole lot of food coloring."</p><p>Yeah, they do, don't they? "It's not food coloring. Not if they're what I think they are." Tikki likes <em>sweets</em>. Adrien has been envying civilian Ladybug this forever. "I'm going to make Plagg find out. Don't look."</p><p>"I won't."</p><p>"Claws in."</p><p>Plagg spirals out of the ring and into Adrien's waiting hand. Adrien slings his messenger bag off his shoulder and gets out a wedge of Camembert. "Plagg, you doing okay?"</p><p>"No." He curls up in Adrien's palm, purring, and takes the cheese but doesn't eat it. "Tikki's really worried, kit. Her girl—"</p><p>Adrien sighs. "Yeah."</p><p>He doesn't know how Ladybug ordinarily copes with missing time in which she committed horrors, because it's never happened. They have no reason to believe either of them did anything during the Oblivio attack that their more knowledgeable selves would object to, except the bit where Ladybug objects to that kiss photo on principle, and other than that, Ladybug has never not been herself during an attack. Sandboy making her ordinary and Reverser making her clumsy are the closest they've come.</p><p>He himself can't stand <em>not</em> knowing: he won't ask Ladybug, which inevitably leaves gaps in his understanding of the gaps in his memory, but any other source is fair game—he's honestly astonished Nadja Chamack was <em>able</em> to take him by surprise with that photo of Ladybug's determined hands on his own astonished face, because <em>nothing</em> he'd found had even hinted at what it shows. But Ladybug has never asked Adrien for more details about Aspik versus Desperada than he, needing to explain why he couldn't be who she needed, had shared before she gave Luka the Miraculous. She might not be able <em>to</em> stand knowing.</p><p>Plagg nibbles at the Camembert. Adrien strokes his fur.</p><p>"Okay," says Plagg a minute or two later, and eats the last bit of cheese.</p><p>"Those macarons," Adrien says, holding Plagg over Carapace's shoulder. (Carapace turns his head, enough probably to bring Plagg into view, not enough to see more than Adrien's right hand.) "Ladybug's power-ups?"</p><p>Plagg flies over to investigate. "Yep. Probably all she's got."</p><p>"Will anything explode or catch fire if we touch them?" asks Carapace.</p><p>"No more than usual."</p><p>"What even is my life," asks Adrien, rhetorical, "that that's reassuring? Are there at least three of the fire ones?"</p><p>Plagg nods. "You brought mine?"</p><p>Adrien digs out one of the red wedges of magic Camembert. "Sorry, Plagg. I know you hate these."</p><p>He zips over and nips the fire cheese out of Adrien's hand. "Know what else I hate, kit?"  Plagg gulps the cheese and morphs: if he were ordinarily a white- or cream-furred cat, the red-gold points would now make him look like a flame-point Siamese. "You getting hurt for dumb reasons. Like running into a burning building without fireproofing yourself first. Conplaggration," he adds.</p><p>Adrien rolls his eyes.</p><p>Plagg shoots up in front of his face. "Kit?"</p><p>"No." Ladybug hates puns. She'll indulge him every now and again—she made a point of it when Death walked the red lava carpet; he still doesn't know whether he wants to believe Ladybug couldn't bear the thought of dying without seeing her partner smile—but she <em>hates</em> every joke Chat Noir makes. She made a point of that when they were Ladynoire and Mister Bug and he didn't know what to do. Unfocused. Unprofessional. In the less complimentary sense, <em>laughable</em>. "Just no. Conplaggration, claws out!"</p><p>"Conplaggration?" Carapace repeats, turning to look Chat Noir over. "Dude, nice threads."</p><p>Chat nods in curt acknowledgement (stylized saffron and vermilion flames trace up his soot-black armor, and he's breathing clearer, cooler air; past that he does not <em>care</em>), gets out the rest of the rainbow Camembert, and checks his earpiece. "Okay, team, I have no idea what the fuck just happened, and let's keep trying to keep secret identities secret, but you need to congregate at Max's for a bit and ask your kwami if they'd rather a magicamembert or a magicaron. We all get to be fireproof. And we're redistributing the recharge food while we're at it."</p><p>"Shell off," murmurs Carapace. "Wayzz, cookie or cheese?"</p><p>"That doesn't make sense," says Rena. "That doesn't—Hawkmoth didn't bargain for my name."</p><p>"Huh?" asks Bunnyx.</p><p>"She said he didn't." Rena's voice is quavering. "That doesn't make sense either."</p>
<hr/><p>Rena Rouge is missing something. They must be. Some puzzle piece that will make the rest fit into place, some angle to view the problem that will turn all these distorted blotches of color into a coherent picture—they never personally saw this art installation, Alya's family wasn't living in Paris then, but Alix went on an anamorphic street art kick recently and proceeded to talk Alya's ear off. François Abélanet; a ridiculous quantity of sand, hay, and greenery; and several days' work from dozens of people. From most angles, Alix said (waving a photo on her phone), this art installation—Rena can't remember its title—looked like someone'd made some weird little hills by Hôtel de Ville. From one particular angle, the photos show, the whole thing snapped into focus: a green globe, marked with latitude and longitude lines in white.</p><p>They just have to find the right angle, that's all. This will all make sense when Rena knows the right angle.</p><p>Arashi frowns at the screen that unrolled, scroll-like, from the cylindrical insert in her sword's handle. "We've heard from almost everyone in Marinette's class, and probably everyone in her family," she says. They're not likely to get past 'probably', since no one's even sure what country Nonna Dupain is supposed to be in right now, and since Grandpa Dupain doesn't know, no one's likely to find out. "Adrien's still the only person we know saw her after school let out."</p><p>Rena knows they all knew that, but rubber-ducking for Arashi seems like one of the more helpful things Rena's done so far tonight.</p><p>"I'm going to try Adrien again." Arashi puts the weapon-phone cylinder to her ear. "Maybe he remembered something else."</p><p>"Maybe if you leave him in the car for two weeks," Chat mutters over the comms, "he'll turn into something useful."</p><p>"Chat Noir!" Rena yelps. Adrien isn't the paragon Marinette believes, of course, but clearly neither is Chat Noir, if he thinks that little of Alya's friend.</p><p>" 'Thunderbolt and lightning, very very frightening'," Arashi deadpans, lowering her phone. (Ryūko used two spells against Ikari Gozen—Alya remembers poring over someone's shakily filmed Ladyblog submission—and Rena, eyeing the three symbols on Arashi's chest that they're almost certain match the three on Ryūko's, has a sudden suspicion of what the third is.) "Who outside Mme. Bustier's class does Marinette spend time with? Other than Tsurugi Kagami," Arashi adds, editing Rose's document. "We've heard from Kagami."</p><p>"Honestly we might need to forget Marinette," Chat says; these earpieces have the best sound quality Alya's ever met in their life, so Rena can't attribute the waver in his voice to the equipment. "Either she's hiding too well or—"</p><p>Marinette was not home when Akumabug set fire to the bakery. The scorched-pork odor that will haunt Alya's nightmares has nothing of <em>Marinette</em>.</p><p>Chat sighs. "I don't <em>want</em> to deal with Queen Bee," he mutters.</p><p>Rena gets that. Chloé's still the obnoxious bullying brat she was the day Alya met her. (Most days. Honesty compels them to clarify: <em>most</em> days.) But as much as Rena wants to see their bestie a superhero, if Marinette isn't going to wield the Bee Miraculous, then someone else needs to. Ladybug is ridic speedy and packs some serious punch even on her <em>sick</em> days, okay, Alya has video proof; no one is blaming Chat Noir for wanting someone with a paralysis move with them when they go after Akumabug. And if they can't hide Marinette behind yellow-and-black magic armor that tells everyone they meet that this bright-eyed heroine is someone else entirely—and Chat Noir is far from the only one who'd be <em>really relieved</em> by Marinette getting magic armor—then Chloé is the obvious choice.</p><p>—But not the <em>only</em> one.</p><p>"What about Lila?" asks Rena.</p><p>Arashi looks up from her screen. "Who?"</p><p>"Lila's the almost," says Bunnyx.</p><p>"Lila provoked Oni-chan," adds Chat Noir. Arashi grimaces.</p><p>"Is she?" Rena reads over Arashi's shoulder. Except for Marinette herself and Lila, everyone in Mme. Bustier's class is marked as heard-from. "Shit. So much for that."</p><p>"So much for…" prompts Chat Noir.</p><p>His tone's gone flat. That's more worrying than how, when Rena said this hot new them should go by Firefox, Chat didn't look like he wanted even a little bit to laugh.</p><p>"If we can't find Marinette and we don't want Chloé," Rena explains, "we still need <em>a</em> Bee, right?" They feel absurdly small again, and as though they're in trouble with their parents for breaking some rule that—well, there were multiple occasions (Alya's parents have informed them) on which they did something <em>Alya</em> knew they'd never been told wasn't allowed, when <em>their parents</em> said they'd told them several times. "Lila's Ladybug's best friend."</p><p>"We can trust her," Carapace adds.</p><p>"We can probably trust Lila more than Marinette," says Rena, with regret. Marinette didn't always lie. Several of their classmates who've known her longer have <em>told</em> Alya Marinette used to be honest and dependable, however shy. But the Marinette Alya knows has always been a liar.</p><p>Especially tonight, that matters. That is, after all, Akumabug's entire stated reason for targeting her.</p><p>"No," Chat Noir growls, controlled fury. "We cannot. We—"</p><p>Silence.</p><p>"Ladybug's tracker fell off the map at 20h23, at the bakery," Chat says, brusque. "Which exploded at 20h22. And nothing new has caught fire since, right?"</p><p>"That we know of," Bunnyx says.</p><p>"So except for when she stopped by Max's about an hour ago," Chat continues, "we have no idea where she has been or what she has been doing for <em>an hour and a half</em>."</p><p>Arashi, her brow beginning to shine damply in the glow of the streetlight, shifts her grip on her sword.</p><p>Ladybug gave them her magicarons, Rena thinks, including enough of the fire flavor to make sure the whole current team has magic turnout gear every firefighter in the city must envy. She can't defeat Akumabug on her own, any more than any akumatized person ever has, but she's <em>on their side</em>.</p><p>Alya may never be able to eat meat again.</p><p>From what angle does this make <em>sense</em>?</p><p>"Where does Lila Rossi live?" Chat demands.</p><p>Carapace finds him the address. "It's one of the apartments just east of Place des Vosges."</p><p>"By the bakery," says Chat. "Let's go."</p><p>Rena checks their map, reorienting themself. (Arashi, more certain of where the two of them are, leaps east; Rena follows.) "I wonder what Lila's bee heroine name will be."</p><p>"Lila Rossi gets a Miraculous over my dead body." Chat's voice could fix the ice caps. "When Ladybug's herself, I'm sure she'll say the same."</p><p>Rena doesn't understand. "What did Lila do, Chat, kick your puppy?"</p><p>"<em>Rena</em>." Chat audibly gets himself back under control. "I know you remember why Ladybug said she's after Marinette."</p><p>They do. It's not fair—Marinette has never lied maliciously in her life; in fact, if Alya rules out 'transparently bad excuses for wanting to be somewhere else, doing something unrelated, whether she promised to be here now or not', 'hasty auditory backspacing so Adrien won't think she <em>meant</em> whatever romantic thing she just said', and lately 'transparently bad excuses for avoiding any opportunity to say romantic things to Adrien', they aren't sure Marinette has ever in her life lied at all. But it's true: Marinette lies.</p><p>"And I guess," Chat Noir continues (he is halfway across the arrondissement from Rena, as far as they know, and they are suddenly, viscerally glad of this), "you've never believed a word Marinette has ever said about Lila."</p><p>"No, because every word of it is romantic jealousy." Rena is never, ever going to admit out loud that they wish Chat Noir were the one akumatized right now, not Ladybug. Ladybug would never be this unlikely to listen to reason, and Rena is obligated to begin with reason. "Lila wants Adrien, therefore Marinette wants to eviscerate Lila." Not, they have to admit, that Lila <em>wouldn't</em> be entirely justified in wanting to eviscerate Marinette if she knew how much poison Marinette's spreading about Lila to keep Lila from Adrien—</p><p>"And whose side is Tsurugi Kagami on?" mutters Arashi.</p><p>Rena is too busy running to stare disbelievingly at her. "What does she have to do with anything?"</p><p>"Nothing, clearly. And just for the record, Rena, correlation isn't causation." Chat sounds disgusted. "Arashi, want to place bets on whether Lila's still alive when we get there?"</p><p>"—Ew."</p><p>Rena has to agree with Arashi, but—</p><p>—wait. "<em>What</em>?"</p><p>(Abélanet's grass globe, they remember. The artwork's title is 'Qui Croire?')</p><p>(Who to believe?)</p><p>"Ladybug hates liars," Chat Noir reminds them. "Lila Rossi <em>lies</em>."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Admire the illustrations by <a href="https://chataclysmes.tumblr.com"><b>chataclysmes</b></a> (<a href="https://alexseanchai.tumblr.com/post/616841242261815296/kagami-for-alexseanchai-s-fic-where-the">art post</a>) and <a href="https://sweetsweetsweetie.tumblr.com"><b>sweetsweetsweetie</b></a> (<a href="https://sweetsweetsweetie.tumblr.com/post/616926745607749632/i-was-recently-commissioned-for-this-neat-fire">art post</a>)!<a id="random03" name="random03"></a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. all of the choices we tried to disguise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><a id="creturn04" name="creturn04"></a>                   I see the lilacs crackling like static<br/>as if erasing, teleporting,<br/>thousands of bees rising from the blossoms:<br/>tiny flames in the sun.<br/>I lick the knife<br/>and the honey pierces my tongue:<br/>                    a nail made of light.<br/>My body is wrapped in honey. When I step outside<br/>                            I become fire.</p><p>—<i>excerpted from</i> "<a href="https://poets.org/poem/combustion">Combustion</a>", Sara Eliza Johnson</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I started drafting this story a year almost to the hour before posting this chapter. This matters for a joke in a later chapter that was supposed to be about ADHD time sense and Watsonian vs Doylist elapsed time. It was not at all supposed to be about what the collective perception of time has been doing this year!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sickening stench of burnt hair hangs in the air of the Rossi apartment.</p><p>Chat Noir glances out the kitchen window: fire engines and ambulances gather in the streets around the park below, where firefighters are keeping the obdurate blaze contained to the single structure where Marinette's home isn't. Within the park, dozens upon dozens of her neighbors are huddling in warm knots in the dry air, treating injuries or being treated for injuries, running bucketfuls of water from inside untouched buildings outside to keep soaking the fabrics they're all breathing through.</p><p>He wishes he could believe Marinette is among them. Even as devastating as it would have been if Lila's feigned injury had kept him away from Ladybug long enough for Oni-chan to steal her Miraculous or kill her, he wishes he could believe Lila is among them.</p><p>Unprofessional. Unfocused.</p><p>Arashi and Carapace have cleared the living room, master bedroom, bathroom. "Not hot," says Carapace, pressing the back of his gloved hand to the door of what must be Lila's bedroom, then testing the doorknob. "Locked."</p><p>Chat snap-kicks the doorknob.</p><p>"Chat Noir!" shrieks Lila from her scorched coverlet, tear tracks shining in the desk-lamp light: her cotton tee and yoga pants are sweat-dark tatters, the crisp crooked edges blackened and glowing. The pants are almost undamaged from waistband to mid-thigh, but there isn't enough left of the shirt to preserve her modesty if she weren't clutching her clenched fists to her chest. Her hair is unevenly singed shorter; much of her exposed skin is scarlet and blistering, some slick with clear ooze or dusted with pale ash.</p><p>"Arashi!" Chat calls over his shoulder: <i>get water, get the EMTs</i> suffocates in his throat at the soft sound of Ladybug's laughter.</p><p>Lila shouts, "<em>She's still here!</em>"</p><p>Her argon butterfly mask flares low in the shadows; the edge of her silhouette is just visible in the glow reflected off the mirror.</p><p>Chat hits the light switch: Ladybug is perched on a bean bag chair, legs crossed at the ankle and hands draped across her lap, looking as relaxed as he has ever seen her.</p><p>(More so. Tired enough to almost fall asleep on a rooftop when it's neither late nor winter is not a subset of relaxed.)</p><p>"Good evening, Chat Noir," Ladybug says. Her yo-yo is sitting on Lila's table, open to phone mode. "I hope you haven't come to surrender."</p><p>He doesn't have nearly good enough an idea of what's going on in her head right now to answer that. "You don't want to do this," Chat tells her.</p><p>Something sparks in Ladybug's palm: a ball of gold light, the size of Chat's collar bell—she's moving—</p><p>"DUCK!" Chat shouts, putting himself between Ladybug and Lila.</p><p>The firebolt sears through the wall. Something crashes: Arashi yelps. A smoke detector starts chirping. The argon mask flares again and fades. Ladybug's little smile hasn't twitched.</p><p>"Quit being a meat shield," says Carapace from the doorway. "That's <em>my</em> job. I'm pulling the fire alarm."</p><p>"Good," Chat tells him, eyeing the hole's smoldering edges. "Evacuate all the noncombatants." Which is the firefighter Ladybug likes? "Rena, Bunnyx, go find Fire Captain Hessenpy if he's out there, otherwise whoever's in charge, and listen to him for a while. Arashi, Lila needs a ride down to the ambulance."</p><p>Lila whimpers. "Care—careful," she says. "Firebug can only hurt you if you lie."</p><p>"That true?" Chat asks Ladybug automatically. He hears the bathtub faucet.</p><p>"Fighting a liar," says Ladybug in English. "Lighting a fire." She smirks at Lila, returning to French: "I hear your reputation precedes you."</p><p>"I'll stop, I'll stop!" begs Lila. "I promise, I'll tell everyone myself, I'll tell them you were telling the truth all along, you don't have to send that video, Marinette, <em>please</em>—"</p><p>—Marinette?</p><p>(That his brilliant lady might be his fiery friend—he's considered the thought, though never with such a vicious edge to that adjective, and always dismissed it—)</p><p>"Marinette?" Chat asks Ladybug. She ignores him.</p><p>(Ladybug knew, before the disaster of a centuries-old sentimonster, exactly where to find Master Fù. Chat knew she borrowed the Fox Miraculous for herself; how else could she, without Tikki and without exposing herself, have given anyone the Rat?)</p><p>"Marinette?" he asks Lila.</p><p>(He knew Multimouse was Ladybug lying to him until he saw the two side by side and the Rat Miraculous off Marinette's neck; Rena Rouge's first Mirage had far more moving parts, and of <em>course</em> Ladybug wouldn't want Chat Noir volunteering <em>Marinette</em> for a Miraculous if—)</p><p>Lila nods. "She said—things no one else knows. Unless—unless Marinette told her about—" She gulps, falling silent.</p><p>(He knew. He <em>knew</em>.)</p><p>"There are differences between false statements, lies, unfulfilled promises, and disbelieved truths," Ladybug observes. "But of course you knew that, Lila. Chameleon. <em>Volpina</em>."</p><p>Kwamibuster never saw Multimouse (he's pretty sure), only heard a battle cry that could easily have been one of the kwamis, and he doesn't <em>think</em> Mme. Mendeleiev, when she assured Chat Noir she hadn't clearly seen civilian Multimouse nor heard her name, was lying; Hawkmoth probably thinks Plagg got himself, Tikki, and the others out on his own. Chat Noir pretends not to understand. "So when I was fighting the Evillustrator…"</p><p>Ladybug shrugs, her shoulders tensing. "Everyone was comparing me to Chloé that day." Which the Evillustrator could have heard Marinette say, and therefore so could Hawkmoth have, but Hawkmoth isn't talking to her right now. "Him, Sabrina—I didn't ask her to do my homework, you know."</p><p>The Evillustrator certainly hadn't overheard that. Chat had, though. He'd wondered if Ladybug—</p><p>This explains <em>so much</em> about Ladybug's plan that night. And makes everything about Papa-Garou hurt so much worse: like he'd closed his gloved palm on sharp rosethorns, and now did it again, bleeding hand bare.</p><p>"I know," says Chat.</p><p>Ladybug leans over and collects her yo-yo, snaps its lid shut, throws it down and recalls it before it strikes the rug.</p><p><i>You don't want to do this</i> is a lie about Firebug. A truth about Ladybug, surely. Is it a truth about the girl behind the mask? "Marinette, please," Chat says. "Why do you want to do this?"</p><p>She throws the yo-yo again, walk-the-dog across the rug. He's always before compared her eyes to the depths of an ocean, or the petals of an unattainable rose: now they burn as brightly blue as the heart of a star. "You know how Hawkmoth operates, Chat Noir. I cannot want much of anything else." The yo-yo gets within two decimeters of his boot and flies back to her hand. Behind him, Lila is weeping.</p><p>From outside the bedroom, Carapace says, "Something's wrong with the fire alarm."</p><p>Ladybug says, "Yep."</p><p>"Move," says Arashi, elbowing Carapace out of the doorway, her arms full of soaked bedsheet: Carapace stands in the corner between door and bed, wavering. Chat steps closer to Ladybug. Arashi warns Lila, "This is going to hurt."</p><p>"Far be it from me to stop you from hurting her," Ladybug says with a lazy smile, "but you're not planning to <em>leave</em> with her, are you?" The smile twists: he's seen her smile like that before. "That wouldn't help me get any justice. And I don't want to be done yet with my revenge."</p><p>(He still wants to know what Bob Roth <em>said</em> to her that day, when she couldn't argue with him very loudly, right before she smiled at Chat like that. He has a better guess now, but there's a reason Paris believed Silencer duct-taped Roth to that rolling chair, no matter that when Roth said <em>she</em> had, she never claimed she hadn't, only—)</p><p>Chat Noir says, "That doesn't sound like you at all."</p><p><i>My lady. I'm listening</i>.</p><p>It might be a trick, he reminds himself. It might be a trap. They cannot <em>dare</em> trust Firebug.</p><p><i>I'm listening</i>.</p><p>Did she just move her left hand, or has it been a loose fist since he got here, her thumb angled a little toward the ceiling? "I know you've heard all the other akumas, Chat Noir. Marinette isn't <em>home</em> right now. He calls me Firebug."</p><p>Which they do have to deal with. No matter what Ladybug wants to tell him, <em>Firebug</em> is a problem they have to stop. Soon.</p><p>The Bee Miraculous is still in his pocket. Short of giving it to Lila—which remains <em>emphatically</em> not an option—or the first person he finds in the corridor, or wielding it himself when no one has bothered to tell him how to dual-wield at all, Chat Noir has no way to immobilize Ladybug that he can be anything resembling sure she can't counter. Carapace's Shellter might hold her, but only for five minutes unless Carapace and Wayzz decide to ignore the safety guidelines, and they have exactly one more fire-flavor magicaron; the idea was for Marinette to give that to Pollen, and fireproofing the Bee is still a good idea, but—</p><p>Choices. Opportunity costs. How does his lady <em>do</em> it?</p><p>—Fuck it. Chat beckons Carapace over; he comes, eyeing Ladybug apprehensively. (She twists and throws her yo-yo, walk-the-cat from nearly at Chat's foot back to near her own, and pretends to ignore them. Lila lets out a whine.) Chat unzips his pocket and presses the mini Miracle Box and the snack ziploc of fire magicaron into Carapace's hand: "Get Chloé."</p><p>"Does it have to be Chloé?" complains Bunnyx over the earpiece, as Carapace—and he looks nothing like he did when Chat Noir met Carapace, nothing like Nino did wielding Chat's staff minutes before that—nods weakly and vanishes. "She's, like, <em>gifted</em> at upsetting people."</p><p>Alix is not wrong. "Shut up, Bunnyx."</p><p>"That's what I thought you said," murmurs Ladybug. "I knew you had more cards up your sleeve. Don't play them yet, chaton. The deck's stacked."</p><p><a id="return07" name="return07"></a>Rena screeches over the comms, inarticulate; reflexively, Chat flinches away. "—wring her scrawny <em>neck</em>!" they shriek. "Wonder how <em>royal</em> fucking pavochón tastes!"<sup>[<a href="#note07">07</a>]</sup></p><p>"What happened to vegetarian?" wonders Carapace.</p><p>"Since that was Mayura we just saw," says Bunnyx, "I'm guessing a sentimonster happened. Guess it's good Captain Hessenpy won't let us in the building."</p><p>Of course. Naturally. Chat doesn't even know why he's surprised. He wonders what tonight is an anniversary of: what dramatic or melodramatic point Hawkmoth's making. Lila was probably in this very room moments before Volpina performed Chat Noir's tragic death scene. "You two go deal with Mayura and the sentimonster," he tells them, exactly as though he expects they can do either. (If they know he expects they can defeat Mayura, they just might defeat Mayura; the sentimonster, maybe not so much.) "Arashi, get the EMTs to come to Lila."</p><p>"Don't." Ladybug leans forward. "I told you. I'm not done yet."</p><p>"Marinette," says Arashi. Kagami doesn't <em>do</em> gentle—not really—but this is the closest he's heard her come. "What did she do to you?"</p><p>"Not that much!" squeaks Lila. "Nothing like—nothing this bad!"</p><p>Ladybug rolls her eyes. "You're not lying. Wrong, but not lying. Pity. I lied <em>for</em> you, Lila. You threatened me, after I <em>lied</em> for you. I tried to <em>prot-mm</em> mm!" She glares at the carnival masks on the wall, clenching her yo-yo in both hands, lips firmly pressed together. "<em>Mmm</em> mm mm-mm!"</p><p>"—Marinette?" 'Protein' isn't a verb, and neither is anything prefixed 'proto-'…</p><p>When was Marinette—and it must <em>be</em> Marinette, not Ladybug—trying to protect Lila? When was she <em>lying</em> to protect <em>Lila</em>?</p><p>And when did Lila threaten her?</p><p>Chat half glances back, wrinkling his brow and adopting a confused tone. "Do you know what she's talking about?"</p><p>Lila shakes her head frantically, weeping and whimpering.</p><p>He lets his shoulders slump. "Damn."</p><p>Ladybug pries her lips apart: "—thistle-headed <em>wingnut</em>!" she snarls, securing her yo-yo to her hip. The argon glow outlines her eyes—a silent moment, then: "Oh, no," she tells Hawkmoth, "you already <em>got</em> more than you bargained for. Keep pushing, I <em>dare</em> you. I'm longing to find out what I am capable of when our bargain doesn't <em>hold</em> me."</p><p>He doesn't need her to catch his eye to know she just told him something important.</p><p>"Fine. Fine, have it your way." Ladybug drops her gaze to Arashi and Lila behind him. Arashi's tapping on her sword-phone screen. Lila's trying to stifle her sobs. "But let me remind you that the main reason I am not burning your house down with you in it is because my <em>not</em> doing that was part of the bargain."</p><p>"—Main?" Chat asks. <i>Why did you agree to any bargain?</i> he wants to ask. But if he can trust her, how can she answer him? If he cannot, why would she? "<em>Main</em> reason?"</p><p>Ladybug taps her right hand on her knee, fingers closed and thumb tucked away. "Main," she says, looking up at him, extending her index finger. Then the middle: "His wife wouldn't get out in time. As far as I know, <em>she's</em> not part of this."</p><p>She taps her ring finger three times on her knee.</p><p>"Not Mayura, then." Chat flexes his right hand, fingers doing the wave once twice again to catch her gaze, saying "Huh. Kind of figured Hawkmoth and Mayura were fucking." He rubs his thumb over his Miraculous: right ring finger—<i>I hear you.</i> "Still might be. Sucks to be Mme. Hawkmoth, though."</p><p><i>I don't know what you're telling me. But I hear</i>—</p><p>His thought fractures: Ladybug's stiffening, grimacing, hissing out a breath.</p><p>The butterfly mask winks out. She sucks another breath in, then compels herself to relax: he's seen her do this before, calm herself mid-battle. Not for the first time, he wonders how badly she might be falling apart outside of—</p><p>Marinette has been going quietly to pieces for <em>months</em>. Adrien thought it was all the commission design work she's been doing, plus every kind-hearted gesture she spends time preparing, plus running to hide her anxiety attack at every akuma, plus the tug-of-war she and Lila have been in over the rest of the class. Or, if he is to believe Rena, over Adrien.</p><p>(He doesn't believe Rena.)</p><p>He's been trying to help. Of course he has: how could he do anything else? Marinette has been too important to him since the moment they met—see injustice, speak of justice; he's always admired and envied her courage, he's just wished she didn't hide it so much. He has <em>been</em> trying. He <em>knows</em> it hasn't been enough.</p><p>But what more was he supposed to do? Tell Jagged Stone <em>not</em> to talk up Dupain-Cheng Designs? Tell Marinette <em>not</em> to be an admirable person and an excellent anti-akuma defense? Tell anyone <em>anything</em> that would give Lila a reason to go on the attack? Lila's like his mother in a bad mood, only Lila's like that <em>all the time</em>!</p><p>"—Maybe you should keep the insults out of his personal life," says Ladybug. Her breathing's ragged. Pained.</p><p>"Maybe he should keep his butterflies out of ours," retorts Arashi. "Chat Noir, shouldn't the EMTs be up here by now?"</p><p>Ladybug shrugs, deliberately nonchalant. "Probably."</p><p>Ominous. "Marinette—do you hate Lila that much?"</p><p>"Trick question," Ladybug says. "Like saying 'the present king of France is bald'. It's neither true nor false. He can only be bald or blond or whatever if he exists at all." She glances toward the door, her eyes a little too damp, a little too bright. "Hawkmoth's bargain was what I suspect it usually is. Get the power to hurt the people who hurt me. <em>Use</em> that power. Lila—made herself convenient." She flicks her fingers, dismissive.</p><p>His heart—like ice. Like ice shattering.</p><p>Lila hurt his lady. It doesn't matter that he didn't know it was Ladybug she was hurting: some friend he's been to Marinette, too. Lila has been <em>hurting</em> her, and not only did he completely fail to notice, he told her—to her face and in so many words!—that proving Lila a liar would hurt Lila without helping anything else, without a moment's thought to how <em>Marinette</em> felt!</p><p>And tonight—he doesn't know what happened tonight. Adrien upset Marinette; that was obvious. How, why—he doesn't know. He saw her out on the Trocadéro with a sketchbook, a heap of crumpled discards, and a miserable expression—he <em>would</em> put several of those discards up against many of his father's recent designs in an anonymous quality challenge and confidently wager the judges would prefer Marinette's work—</p><p>(And he would <em>have</em> asked Ladybug about endorsing Marinette's hero-inspired designs! They haven't been able to tell any merchandisers or the movie makers to knock it off without signing their legal names to the instructions, but no one is exactly authorized to profit off their images, either. And he <em>was</em> certain Ladybug would love every one of those designs—)</p><p>She was just warming back up to him after his disaster of an attempt to cheer her at Musée Grévin, too. He doesn't know what went wrong then either: only that she seemed to be forgiving him, conditional on his promise not to trick her again, and then she closed herself off. He must have hurt her, and she didn't want to let him have the chance to again, and he's been so careless, so <em>clueless</em>—</p><p>—Wait.</p><p>Adrien has hurt her. Adrien has hurt her <em>recently</em>: recently enough, especially since <em>no one</em> seems to have seen her between when Marinette walked away from Adrien and when Ladybug kissed Chat Noir, that he almost has to assume <em>he</em> was the tipping point, <em>his</em> words were the weight that was finally too much for her overburdened back to bear. Adrien has hurt her (he thinks, memory flicking through dozens of moments when she stammered or stumbled when talking to him, or seemed startled or stunned to find he was there) over and over and <em>over</em> again.</p><p>Without even counting to twenty-five thousand nine hundred thirteen.</p><p><i>Stay here,</i> Ladybug told Adrien a few hours ago. <i>Stay safe, stay out of sight—I can't let you get hurt, but I can't get distracted by trying to keep you safe, either. I <strong>can't</strong>. Not tonight. Stay safe, do you understand me?</i></p><p>He should have been the first target on her list. Instead she begged him to stay safe and stay out of her way.</p><p>"Lila made herself convenient," Chat Noir repeats, throat dry.</p><p>Ladybug nods. "Using the power is part of the bargain." She looks sideways, down, her tone going a little flat. "The bakery. I didn't expect the fire to be that big."</p><p>—There have only been three fires tonight. That he knows of. For, admittedly, unusual values of 'three', but—</p><p>The one he and Rena saw from the collège roof, that Nino didn't see ignite because (he told them) the first moment Ladybug took her hands and eyes off him after he knew she's the akuma, he ran. (The building is—was—a cheap, rundown long-term-stay hotel. Whether that's where Ladybug expected to find Master Fù or merely somewhere she plausibly could—that probably doesn't matter, as long as he and the other ten Miraculouses weren't there.) That first blazing moment, between an hour and an hour and a half after Hawkmoth akumatized her, was <em>spectacular</em>.</p><p>The bakery, some twenty minutes later. And she expected that fire to be <em>smaller</em>.</p><p>And everything she's done since arriving at Lila's. None of which has been very big at all.</p><p>In fact, except for one little firebolt—and he thinks the smoke detector stopped chirping about that one a few moments later; he thinks Arashi extinguished anything it caught when she was soaking that bedsheet to cool Lila's burns—Ladybug hasn't so much as thrown a spark since he arrived.</p><p>—Well. He and Arashi are fireproof. And they'll have enough warning before Firebug ignites for Arashi to get Lila clear. Probably. He thinks.</p><p>But there are other apartments in this building, and she broke the fire alarm.</p><p>Keep her talking, then. Don't get caught lying. And maybe get something else interesting out of what she says.</p><p>"You don't <em>want</em> to hurt the people who hurt you," Chat says.</p><p>Ladybug snorts. "Generally speaking, I don't want to hurt anyone." She pauses. "There's—there's a lot."</p><p>That could mean anything from the baker's dozen other students she spends the most time with to the population of Île-de-France. "Anyone in particular?"</p><p>Arashi's typing again. Or still. Are the others listening over either earpiece? Do their weapon-phones even <em>have</em> a messaging app that allows group chats? It doesn't matter. Arashi will make sure the whole team learns this.</p><p>Chat Noir asks, "Who else—who else has hurt you?"</p><p><i>How badly have <strong>I</strong> hurt you?</i> </p><p>More to the point: <i>Who do we need to protect?</i></p><p>Ladybug's gaze burns into his. "Promise me you won't hurt him, Chat."</p><p>…Huh. "Who?"</p><p>"Promise me!" Oh, this must be her mystery boy, he realizes, his heart still in fragments at her feet. Knowing she is Marinette, he can only assume she means Luka, though Ladybug has never said mystery boy's name. "<em>Promise</em> me, chaton! You'll want—you'll—you'll—" She glares at the carnival masks. "I <em>think</em> it is <em>likely</em> that you will want to hurt him," she enunciates with careful fury. "You get upset every time I remind you he exists, and I cannot let you hurt him. <em>Promise me</em>."</p><p>—Has she said a single untrue word this evening? Chat wonders. Is she even capable of it? <em>Dare</em> she lie, when lying means something must burn?</p><p>He wouldn't choose to hurt whoever's lucky enough for his partner to love anyway. No matter how much he might want to.</p><p>And with Ladybug's parents—unavailable—the people Hawkmoth is most likely to target, or to force Firebug to target, in order to get her to dance to his tune…Alya is more prominent among Marinette's friends than anyone else. They must be top of the hit list. <em>They're</em> safe, as long as Ladybug holds to not telling Hawkmoth Rena Rouge's name, but Ladybug's mystery boy might be about to take their spot on the charts.</p><p>"I won't hurt him, Marinette. I won't let anyone hurt him." Chat smiles, as reassuringly as he can. <i>Pay attention, Arashi. Who do we need to protect?</i> "I promise."</p><p>She closes her eyes, letting out a quiet breath, and opens them, straightening her spine. "His name's Adrien."</p><p>"<em>Adrien</em>?" Chat Noir repeats, hearing his voice squeak clear up into mezzo-soprano. "Sits in front of you in class Adrien?" <i>Twenty-five thousand nine hundred thirteen</i> Adrien? <i>Not exactly a 'good friend'</i> Adrien? His brain is throwing web client error codes: 421 Misdirected. 422 Unprocessable. 418 I'm a teapot.</p><p>Ladybug frowns, just a little, then twitches her head, a tiny shake side to side. "Yes, Chat Noir. That Adrien." She taps her right ring finger three times on her knee. "I know you know him. I don't think you like him much," she adds, "but he's—" She heaves a sigh, staring at the floor. "Well. He says we're friends. I'm always so busy trying to impress him that I can't be sure we are."</p><p>Chat plasters a neutral expression on his face. <i>Don't leave me alone with him!</i> he remembers Marinette shouting, when Alya and Nino and Manon did exactly that. And then slumping against the door, much like—much like Ladybug slumped, when she didn't quite introduce herself to Chat Noir, on under two minutes' acquaintance.</p><p>He remembers Marinette's sarcastic approval of Chloé's nasty trick that first morning; he remembers Chloé glowering first thing that afternoon from the desk that was Marinette's before lunch, and a couple heartbeats of Marinette looking pleased with herself from the desk behind his, and he'd dashed across the courtyard to a classroomful of laughter that honestly Chloé had deserved.</p><p>(<em>No one</em>, in Adrien's experience, got one up on Chloé. Possibly no one in <em>Chloé</em>'s experience till then, her mother and Stoneheart aside; even if she <em>were</em> no harder for anyone else to deal with than for Adrien, it never had felt fair that Adrien had the choices of doing what Chloé wanted, listening to her complain about doing what Adrien wanted, starting a fight with her, or not having her over at all.)</p><p><em>Marinette</em> thought she needed to impress <em>Adrien</em>?</p><p>—He cannot stand here and reanalyze everything he knows about his friend and his partner and <em>miss what she's saying</em>.</p><p>"—freaking out <em>so much</em> over the derby hat theme," she is saying, her head lifted again. "The—the—ugh! I had so many designs ready for <em>other</em> kinds of hats! But no, my first real chance to impress Adrien Agreste had to involve a style I'd never touched! And then—that contest was the day of M. Pigeon 1," she notes, "but I thought of this before that—and then I focused my design on a pigeon feather! Sarcasm won't work right now, or I'd tell you exactly how impressed I think he was."</p><p>He can picture Ladybug saying it: <i>very impressed, I'm sure,</i> with an eyeroll and a derisive snort and a tone of voice that would tell anyone how false she thinks those words are. "Did he or did he not tell you he thinks that hat's awesome?" Chat asks. 'Awesome' is, he's pretty sure, the exact word Adrien used. More than once.</p><p>"He did. That's not the point, Chat. He's allergic. <em>Moving on</em>," she says, tense all through her neck and arms.</p><p>Adrien's father—and if Adrien has never told Marinette this, he clearly should have—is well aware that feathers are a fashion design element and therefore should have made sure all the contest participants knew about the intended model's bird dander allergy in advance. (<i>You're perfect—perfectly capable!</i> he remembers Ladybug assuring him, only moments by her count before he told her he'd proved to his own satisfaction he wasn't. Then blaming herself for whatever she didn't even remember doing wrong, when the fault was never hers at all.) Chat Noir decides not to mention that.</p><p>"We made sure to use a synthetic feather when I remade it for Fashion Week," Ladybug continues. "So that part worked out—Style Queen crashing his catwalk, not so much—and of course I made a complete fool of myself right before the show, but no one else saw that and at least he didn't make fun of me for it?"</p><p>"I doubt he would ever make fun of you," Chat says, carefully neutral. "At least if you weren't making fun of yourself over the same thing already." There's a difference between <i>laugh with</i> and <i>laugh at</i>, and he figured out early on how to be sure Ladybug knew Chat was on the friendly side of that line, but Marinette doesn't seem to draw it in the same place. She also isn't acting either flustered or assured, either determined or embarrassed, either confident or more than a little self-deprecating. Which is <em>not</em> lining up with what he'd expect of either his friend or his partner. In fact—</p><p>"No," Ladybug agrees, "I don't think he would. I'm not sure he knows making fun of people is a thing he could do, even if he never wants to do it? He went on a weekend trip to London for work the other month, and I wrote something to give him beforehand, and I mixed up the notes—"</p><p>In fact, Ladybug is strengthening her posture and focus.</p><p>"—on second thought," she says with a glint of amusement, "I'm not finishing that sentence. Make him tell you."</p><p>"…I'll make a note of that." What is he missing here?</p><p>She sighs again, a gesture out of sync with how she's holding herself. "At least that time he <em>saw</em> me. I meant to give him something for his fifteenth birthday. I made it, I wrapped it, I brought it to school, I <em>tried</em> to give it to him, but I was my usual maladroit self and I didn't, and—"</p><p>—Adrien missed out on a <em>handmade</em> birthday gift from <em>Marinette</em>?</p><p>"He got the present," Ladybug tells Chat, and taps her right ring finger on her knee, three times. "He told everyone he really liked it. He was raving about that scarf the whole next day. I think I would have really impressed him, if only he knew it was from me."</p><p>That was—he hadn't even known her a month!</p><p>"And earlier to-mm<em>mmm</em>MMM!" She's fuming.</p><p>Lila lets out a loud whine: Chat startles—how did he forget she was there? "As fascinating as this teen rom-com is," Lila says—</p><p>"<em>I told you not to lie to me!</em>"</p><p>Chat whips out his staff: that note in Ladybug's voice never bodes well. She's on her feet, glancing frantically around the room, a gumball-sized golden fireball hovering above her palm. "You," she says. "Dragon. Is the building clear?"</p><p>A moment—Chat doesn't dare take his eyes off Firebug—and Arashi says, "It's just us four."</p><p>"Make it two," says Chat, in unison with Ladybug.</p><p>She flicks the fireball at one of the posters on the wall; it catches. He turns, just far enough to watch Arashi fold a Lila-sized bundle of damp bedsheet over her left shoulder, shatter the window with her right elbow, and leap.</p><p>Ladybug nods sharply. "Chat Noir?" she asks, suddenly hesitant.</p><p>He resecures his baton. "Ladybug." She isn't moving—she is trembling with the effort of <em>not</em> moving—</p><p>Chat wraps himself around her—he's ready to wrestle her down if he has to, but he doesn't want to fight her and she doesn't try to make him—and crushes her close with one arm, a gesture he wishes could be more for what it said to her than for pinning her arms between their bodies, so she can't keep him from snagging both ribbons from her hair.</p><p>"I can't tell you where my butterfly is," Ladybug tells him, still unmoving except for the tremors that ripple her hair over her shoulders.</p><p>He grabs both ribbons in his teeth and braces, but when the satin gives way, no butterfly flutters free.</p><p>"Chaton," says Ladybug. "Chaton, listen."</p><p>Chat spits out the ribbons and focuses on her: on her determined eyes, blue as the heart of a star.</p><p>—The argon mask flares again.</p><p>She snarls, wordless, jerking her gaze a bit to one side. "If he dies," she tells Hawkmoth, low and furious, "I will bury you beside him, so when I sit by his grave I can piss on yours!"</p><p>"LB," says Chat. She has a plan. She must have a plan, she <em>always</em> has a plan—</p><p>Ladybug meets his eyes, the nightmare mask still glowing. "Lie to me."</p><p>"The fire," he reminds her. That poster is burning merrily now, the flames trying to spread.</p><p>"It's harder to hold it when he's pushing me." She taps his shoulder with one right finger: one, two, three.</p><p><i>What are you trying to tell me?</i> </p><p>"I think you'll all survive," Ladybug says. All—including her team: several of Marinette's friends, at least one of whom heard every word, and they can't compare notes right this moment. She smiles, and—</p><p>He never saw her face during one key moment at the Tour Eiffel: when she declared for all Paris to hear that Ladybug and Chat Noir would always protect them, she was <em>on</em> the tower, too far away for him to see her expression; a moment earlier when she challenged Hawkmoth, they were both facing the tower, and she was nearer it than he was.</p><p>He wonders if this is how she looked right then.</p><p>Ladybug says, "Lie to me, Chat Noir."</p><p>A minute before that moment, she was despairing, utterly without confidence in anyone's power to end the nightmare, least of all her own. Chat Noir cannot remember what he told her, exactly, but he remembers the gist of it: she <em>could</em> win, they <em>would</em> win—not something he could have known the truth of, but something he thinks became true because he told her he believed it already was.</p><p>Chat Noir says, "Ladybug, we're going to lose."</p><p>She gasps, her eyes lighting in much the same astonished joy he remembers Marinette had, in the moment before unwrapping the lucky charm Adrien gave her. He grins.</p><p>The world blazes hot gold.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Content note: burn injuries. <sup>[<a href="#creturn04">return</a>]</sup><br/> </p><p><a id="note07" name="note07"></a><i>07:</i> Pavochón is a Caribbean roasted turkey dish; 'pavo' is Spanish for 'turkey', 'pavo real' is Spanish for 'peacock', and 'real' is Spanish for 'royal'. Thus: roasted peacock. <sup>[<a href="#return07">return</a>]</sup><br/> </p><p>I have learned so much about writing from <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalaietha/profile"></a><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalaietha"><b>lalaietha</b></a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/synecdochic/profile"></a><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/synecdochic"><b>synecdochic</b></a>, y'all. So <em><a href="https://synecdochic.dreamwidth.org/282057.html">ridiculously much</a></em>. And <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Temperanza/profile"></a><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Temperanza"><b>La_Temperanza</b></a> makes <em>great</em> <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/series/458134">AO3 work skin tutorials</a>; this fic wouldn't look half so good otherwise.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. candles on the table</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I took up some playing cards. I played them<br/>into skinny air. A voice said, Swim or drown.<br/>It said: Your house caught fire, flood, caught fear—<br/>it's coming down. No one loves you now, here.<br/>By land or water, girl, get outta town.</p><p>—<i>excerpted from</i> "<a href="https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2014/11/03/didnt-get-nunnery">How I Didn't Get Myself to a Nunnery</a>", Suzanne Lummis</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a id="creturn05" name="creturn05"></a>Chapter-specific content notes are in the chapter end notes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Look, Carapace," Rena snaps, scanning the Place des Vosges skyline, "I want Adrien to get through this in one piece as much as you do! But when an akuma turns up, have you ever seen him run any direction but <em>away</em>?"</p><p>"Away is usually the right direction!" Bunnyx reminds them, umbrella held ready to play sword or shield. "You read the Ladyblog, right? Number two piece of advice for dealing with an akuma attack, stay out of the way!"</p><p>Rena Rouge wrote that article their own personal self, thank you very much.</p><p>"Number one piece of advice for dealing with an akuma attack," Carapace observes from somewhere in the Agreste mansion, "don't cause one."</p><p>Bunnyx snaps open her umbrella: Rena dives behind her, plants their feet on the concrete and their back against Bunnyx's shoulders, and <em>braces</em>.</p><p>"I am," Rena grits out over the rushing wind, "<em>actually aware</em> the Ladyblogger ought to stick a photo by that paragraph. Big red 'no' sign over the latest Insta selfie from TheOfficialChloeBourgeois." Alya has not done so because that seems counterproductive. "But we know Queen Bee can and <em>will</em> fight akumas, and she is <em>competent</em>!" If Alya had not pedaled that rickshaw at Lollipop Giant, and then rapidly in the other direction once the oversized toddler decided he wanted their fake street sign more than he wanted Ladybug, would Alya now be Rena Rouge? "We do not know that about Adrien!"</p><p>"Did you say something?" yells Bunnyx, almost inaudible.</p><p>—Rena will text them all, then. When the windstorm relents.</p><p>Which they can't count on happening, can they? Rena hasn't seen the sentimonster but that doesn't mean this isn't it, and Mayura has two Miraculous wielders in sight! Hawkmoth might care more about the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculouses than the others, but Mayura had the Bee in hand and was running off with it, Rena saw that themself—whether Hawkmoth wants more wielders on his side or just fewer against him, or whether Mayura wants them for her own reasons and he doesn't care, is <em>so</em> not important right now—</p><p>Rena's boot slips: they dig their heels in harder. Adrien is going to have a <em>ball</em> calculating the physics of this later, if anyone is getting it on film—there should be news cameras; Nadja Chamack, Clara Contard, and Alya Césaire are hardly the only reporters in Paris who think Robert Landsburg died the best possible death—</p><p>A gust—slipping, flying—pain dull across their back, sharp over their heart—</p><p>Bunnyx thumps to the ground at the base of the Ladybug and Chat Noir statue and catches Rena when they fall, the rigid line of her folded umbrella pressing painful on Rena's back. "This is gonna be fun," Bunnyx mutters, rolling Rena roughly to the ground.</p><p>Rena glares up at the statue. "You know, when I said I'd happily let Ladybug break my heart," they gasp out, "I meant my <em>heart</em>. Not my ribs!"</p><p>Ladybug who is Marinette who is Firebug who says people do not trust her, people call her a liar, <em>people like Alya</em>—</p><p>It hurts to breathe.</p><p>"I can't find Adrien!" Carapace says, frantic. "I can't find anyone here at all!"</p><p>(Adrien has nothing scheduled tonight—Nino knows it; he was complaining to Alya earlier about how any <em>decent</em> parent would at least <em>consider</em> letting their kid and his best friend wander the neighborhood together, or hit the arcade, or failing that do homework at either home, sitting close enough to hit each other with pillows—and Rose said she'd heard from Adrien. Rose said Adrien was <em>safe at home</em>.)</p><p>"Forget Adrien!" snaps Bunnyx. "Your sweetheart might have broken <em>ribs</em>, Carapace, <em>get Chloé</em> and get your exoskeleton-covered ass <em>back</em>—" The wind picks up, the air around Rena staying still: "—oh shit!"</p><p>Nino's talking. Chat Noir's saying something. Bunnyx is shouting. Rena can't hear anything but unspoken prayers and the rush of the wind.</p><p>"<em>Shellter</em>!" Carapace screams. The base of the statue—Rena has to sit up—</p><p>A green-traced dome surrounds Lila's apartment building, stretching oval, shoving too-slow refugees along the street out of the way. Hot white-gold light fills the dome. A dark speck midway up thuds into the green—falls—fades—</p><p>"I see him!" Bunnyx shouts. She snaps her umbrella shut—Rena can't move, can't <em>breathe</em>—and roller-blades straight for the burning building: "<em>Make a hole, people!</em> Carapace, can you let me through without frying the whole park?"</p><p>A moment.</p><p>In the same determined voice as when he said <i>Hey arachnid</i> when Ladybug chose to make him Carapace, he says, "Yes I can."</p><p>Bunnyx skates right through Shellter like it isn't even there.</p><p>"Sounds like you could use a <i>lucky break</i>," Ladybug says behind them, a grin in her tone on especially the English phrase, and Rena relaxes half a heartbeat before realizing in a searing pink-sparkled flash why that's a <em>bad idea</em>—</p>
<hr/><p>The outside air hits like wintry water, like ice shattering underfoot. Chat's folded in half over something swaying, the concrete that's fleeting past his skull abrading his gloved knuckles and booted toes—he misses when 'butterflies in my stomach' meant nervousness, not fear, not rising bile—</p><p>He lands—clumsy, maladroit—on his back on the grass: rolls to his knees—his stomach convulses: he can't he <em>can't</em> too risky too <em>helpless</em> but he can't <em>stop</em> it either—</p><p>"Lucky break," says Ladybug in English behind him: pink light flares, casting his shadow on the acid-damp grass; her hand on his spine warms him like the bakery air on a winter day. The urge to keep vomiting stops cold, then melts away.</p><p>Chat pushes himself up, Ladybug helping when he wobbles; she buries her face in his chest, her hands safely on his shoulders and well away from his ring, and—<em>ow</em>, that burning feeling must be the creepy butterfly mask light show—</p><p>—Fuck everything, that's Clara Contard and a camera operator jogging up.</p><p>"Did I know you could do that?" Chat asks, wrapping his arms around her and turning her face a little away from the camera.</p><p>Ladybug laughs a little and speaks as quietly as (he thinks) she can. "If he's going to keep handing me metaphorical rope—" Oh great; what's the catch? "—then I will damn well build him a gallows and ask if he wants to step up."</p><p>Mme. Contard halts far too close to them. "Ladybug!" she exclaims, mic in Chat's face; the camera operator is only a meter and a half farther back. "Chat Noir! Can—"</p><p>No, he can<em>not</em>. "Get lost!" Chat growls at them both. "This fight <em>sucks</em>—"</p><p>Not least because if only <em>Ladybug's team and Hawkmoth's</em> know Ladybug is Marinette, then if the world finds out and <em>they</em> didn't do it, they have really good reason to suspect whoever <em>did</em>—but Lila knows <em>Firebug</em> is Marinette, Chat Noir still likes Paris trusting his partner, and Hawkmoth is speaking to Firebug <em>right now</em>.</p><p>"—and I just got pitched out of an exploding building," he continues without pause. "Can we get three fucking minutes to regroup?" He glances past Mme. Contard: Rena, Bunnyx, and Arashi are mêlée tag-teaming Mayura and what must be the sentimonster. He can't tell—it's hard to see; the windy parts of windstorms usually are—but the heat shimmers are moving in a shape that's no less humanoid than most sentimonsters. "It looks like our team's handling the other angles okay, and—"</p><p>Chat turns to look up at the roof of the south-of-the-park building, away from the news team, and close his eyes. "—I don't see the akuma right now anyway!"</p><p>He runs his right hand up Ladybug's back, setting two claws by feel at the edge of her collar, and holds her close with the other. She's trembling again.</p><p>Carapace lets out a string of Arabic curses over the comms; Chat isn't the only one turning to look. A thunderous shattering, a <em>roar</em>: the Shellter around Lila's building is cracking, sending fire shooting toward the sky and bringing wind rushing toward the flames—</p><p>Chat yanks his right hand down, feeling her armor give way like tissue paper, to seize his baton and hoist her to his hip and vault northwest with her. No butterfly flaps free.</p><p>—Fuck, what's left? The yo-yo and—</p><p>They land in the intersection by Adrien's house. Chat thinks about diving behind the dubious shelter of the Agreste mansion walls, wistful for when he envied the breezes that never shook the hedges' leaves—but Marinette is afraid for Adrien, and Ladybug knows exactly where Firebug left Adrien. Northeast, then.</p><p>When Chat glances back, the sentimonster has swept up much of the flames—it is as much a tornado as August Leclair's sentimonsters have ever been lollipops—</p><p>"Stop," Ladybug says, her attention over his shoulder. Chat finds the nearest alley and ducks inside, sets her down. "I'm running out of leeway," she tells him, opening her yo-yo without moving to leave his arms. "He—"</p><p>Her lips seal shut; she growls and flips the yo-yo like she might to dump out a change purse. The white-glowing entrance to what Ladybug once called her mystical vault (Chat remembers repeating the words with a different intonation and a bright smirk, then getting knocked on his ass as she laughed) spits out a large metallic-pink sports bottle and a gold-plated hoop earring with an imitation cultured pearl. She shoves the bottle into Chat's free hand and regards the earring flat on her palm.</p><p>When she can speak again, Ladybug says "Drink, minou, it's not poisoned or anything. Just water, electrolytes, and berry flavor. Have you eaten anything since lunch?"</p><p>Yeah, about half a croissant, for all the good it does him on the park grass. In his defense—in his indictment—when Adrien found Marinette on the Trocadéro, it wasn't yet his scheduled dinnertime. Chat rinses the sharp sour taste out of his mouth while wishing this batch were lemony (he already dislikes lemon; that's probably <em>why</em> Ladybug's emergency hydration supply is berry), spits to one side, takes a gulp, and notices how his fingers catch the light.</p><p>He edges them a little closer to the better-lit sidewalk. There's two long gashes torn in her armor, from the back of her collar nearly to her left hip, shallow and bloody. Between, the not-fabric sticks to her skin.</p><p>"Bug, I am so sorry," Chat whispers.</p><p>"Careful." She doesn't sound angry or hurt or sad or anything. "That's a little too close to being a lie."</p><p>Chat thinks about Dark Cupid and Gamer 2.0—about the soft warmth of his lady in his arms and the frigid pain of the arrow in his back, about how he closed his eyes so he would no more have to remember her expression when he tipped himself off the platform than she remembers his from any of his second chances—and doesn't say anything.</p><p>"I owe you an apology too," she says, her gaze still fixed on the earring in one hand and the yo-yo in the other. "Before I forget." She takes a deep breath. There's a saying about hope, he thinks. He's not sure why it's coming to mind, or why the wording is escaping him: it doesn't begin with English 'doom', but it sounds like it does, and something about her voice as she psychs herself up… "The kiss earlier—I knew it would hurt you. I wish it didn't—I hurt you too much already, chaton, I always hurt you—"</p><p>She has never been cruel. Rarely thoughtless. Even when refusing him because—she says, and he knows she's lying, he has always known she's lying: no one but a lover would touch someone as often and as tenderly as Ladybug touches Chat Noir—even though her heart belongs to her mystery boy, she has been careful with his.</p><p><i>His name's Adrien,</i> she said—sits in front of her in class Adrien, twenty-five thousand nine hundred thirteen Adrien, not exactly a 'good friend' Adrien—and she cannot have lied, but—</p><p>—but she never said Adrien was her mystery boy, did she? He assumed that—he's been assuming it isn't just a celebrity crush—but <em>she</em> only said Chat would likely want to hurt Adrien—</p><p>"—I wish I didn't," she repeats, and looks up, eyes watering. "I never want to hurt you. But I knew you'd know."</p><p>She smells like sweet lavender, and bitter rosemary, and scorched earth.</p>
<hr/><p>"I'm putting a PSA on the Ladyblog," Rena tells Nino and Wayzz, and any other teammates who might be listening. (This might be nobody. Chat Noir is chasing Firebug, and Rena Rouge does not <em>care</em> how confident anyone is that Ladybug is steering, because they <em>know</em> Hawkmoth can enforce akuma victims' cooperation; Chloé won't be on the comms until she meets Bunnyx in the Grand Paris lobby; Arashi is taking up everyone's slack. Nobody argued when Rena said they were going to play meat shield while Carapace recharged, but—) "I don't—we can't—the <em>people</em>," the people who are more helpless than they feel.</p><p>They can keep their city safe from Firebug without outing Ladybug. They <em>will</em>.</p><p>"Let's do it," Nino says behind them. The sound of water on skin and cloth, which probably means he's splashed some of the bottle someone shoved at Rena on his face instead of drinking it like he was supposed to. (They hope he wanted the cooling but didn't <em>need</em> it. Alya has taken up caching small quantities of food everywhere, because apparently red foxes <em>do</em> that (according to Papa when Alya was eight), even though Alya has never needed to worry about where their next meal is coming from; Nino hasn't admitted to any turtle traits or instincts kicking in, but anything to do with being cold-blooded would <em>really suck</em> to have in the heat of these fires, and worse in the January night air.) "I'll film?" he asks.</p><p>They'd have to either stop facing the light from the alley entrance or stop standing between it and him; they shake their head. "The angles don't work. Stay out of frame."</p><p>"Got it."</p><p>Rena flips out their flute, screen and camera and all. "Live from Paris, this is Rena Rouge," they tell the recording dot. "If you think you see Ladybug, run. Especially if you are anywhere near Place des Vosges, if you think you see Ladybug, <em>run</em>. Tonight's akuma resembles her—remember when Chat Noir was caught on camera robbing the Louvre? That was <em>not</em> Chat Noir—and we would <em>much</em> rather you run away from Ladybug and stay <em>safe</em> than get close enough to Firebug you get burned!"</p><p>There is spinning a true story so people feel about it the way the reporter likes better, and then there are lies, damn lies, and statistics.</p><p>"Her theme is <i>liar liar, pants on fire</i>," Rena continues, "so if Firebug catches you, tell the truth or say nothing at all." They breathe. "Mayura is also out fighting. She is the Peacock Miraculous wielder; she is responsible for the sentimonsters. All blue, skin and hair included, and her skirt and fan look like peacock feathers. If you see her, <em>run</em>. The sentimonster is like ten meters of burning tornado. If you see it, <em>run like hell</em>! Stay—stay safe, Ladyblog viewers." They don't dare say <i>stay connected</i>. "Paris. <em>Stay safe</em>."</p><p>Stop recording. Upload video to the Ladyblog's cloud storage; decide not to care about whether she ever actually logged in. Dial a contact they aren't sure how they, on their flute, even have.</p><p>"Juleka," Rena says, "you with me?"</p><p>"I'm here." Juleka's mic isn't as high quality as any of the Miraculous-made ones, but she's audible. "What do you need?"</p><p>"I'm texting you the Ladyblog logins and passwords," Rena says, typing that message. "Get that video I just took up on Tumblr and YouTube as fast as possible. Send TVi the permalink as soon as you have one. Then start working on the transcript."</p><p>"On it."</p><p>Rena hangs up, switches back to the hero team comm channel, and tries to breathe.</p><p>"Juleka is not going to tell anyone," they tell themself. "She doesn't even know anything. Not—not for certain."</p><p>Juleka certainly will not tell anyone who might tell Hawkmoth or Mayura. (This is, after all, the same person who—probably because she needs to describe her girlfriend as her BFF around anyone who might possibly mention the fact to Rose's parents ever—described what she as Reflekta planned to do to Rose as making them look <i>like twin sisters forever</i>. Given how Alya upset Juleka in the first place and <em>why</em>, Alya would have expected Reflekta to say something more like <i>couple outfits</i>.) Nor will Juleka misuse Alya's admin access: Alya's career is safe. Etta and Ella and Anansi are <em>safe</em>, their classmates and Manon and Chris are <em>safe</em>, Nino and Manman and Papa <em>are safe</em>.</p><p>Nino makes an agreeing sound. "Triply not if she knows who Chat Noir wants to give the Tiger—"</p><p>Swearing erupts over the comms—or so Rena assumes; they don't know Chat's words but his tone is clear. "Focus on Mayura!" he orders. "Has Carapace recharged yet? And where the fuck is Queen Bee?"</p><p>"Give her two minutes!" says Bunnyx.</p><p>Wayzz is still devouring a croissant. "If you're that impatient," Rena mutters, "you could have given the Bee to Lila."</p><p>"<em>Leaving aside</em> how she's a severe burn patient right now and that makes that a <em>bad idea</em>," snarls Chat Noir, ice threatening to avalanche, "have you ever listened to one single word Marinette says about her? Or do you plan to uncritically believe the Ladyblogger here?"</p><p>—What—</p><p>"The Ladyblogger could," Chat continues, "on <em>several</em> occasions, have <em>asked Ladybug</em> about Lila's interview! And right up until the Sapotis attack, Ladybug and I would both have said our only friends are <em>each other</em>! To hell with the girl under the mask—none of her friends are Ladybug's friends anyway! <em>Trust but verify</em>, Rena!"</p><p><i>A good reporter always verifies her sources,</i> Alya remembers telling Marinette, as Rena braces to shield Nino from the gust of smoke-laden air. <i>Can you prove she doesn't actually know Ladybug?</i> It hurts to breathe.</p><p>"Trust but verify what?" asks Chloé, then shakes her head—Rena can hear the rustling of her hair. "Where are the rest of you?"</p><p>Chat <em>growls</em>: "Where <em>were</em> you, Queen Bee? Madrid?"</p><p>Fuck, at this rate they're going to have <em>both</em> their first-line off the rails. "Cut her some slack, Chat Noir," Rena says, trying to sound calming. "She only just got here."</p><p>Nino presses his cheek to Rena's. "My fault. I'll be back in action in—Wayzz?—thirty seconds maybe?"</p><p>"I sent you for her twenty minutes ago! Where did you <em>go</em>, Carapace, Milan?"</p><p>"Wayzz, shell on!" says Nino: a flash of green light and Rena turns. Yep, the damp tee he was breathing through is gone; they shove Carapace's hood down to tie somebody's soaked long-sleeve shirt around his face. "Adrien is not home, by the way," Carapace continues, muffled until he gets his comm back in his ear. "Dude, this <em>worries</em> me."</p><p>"If she wanted to hurt him," Chat Noir says flatly, "she already would have. Rena, I need you."</p><p>Carapace meets Rena's eyes. They lean in for a quick kiss—<i>I hold with those who favor fire</i>, they cannot help but think; they don't watch him leave—and say, "Okay, boss cat, where do you need me?"</p><p>"See this?" Their flute pings, and they whip its screen back out: the message shows a hoop earring with a pearl in Chat Noir's palm. Why does Rena recognize it? "I think Ladybug thought this is the amok item," he says, "but Sparkler there is not listening to me, so either we're looking for its partner or there's some other message here."</p><p>"It looks familiar?" Rena says. They forward the image to Juleka:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Rena Rouge:</i> anyone recognize this?</p>
  <p><i>Juleka </i><span>📸</span><i>:</i> Rose thinks it looks like Lila's?</p>
</blockquote><p>"—I am going to fucking <em>end</em> her," Rena says in fascinated horror, a kaleidoscope of stomach butterflies flicking through a hundred memories: <i>Marinette's so busy</i> it sounded cruel of Lila to invite her to a group outing she'd have to decline, <i>Marinette won't mind</i> doing some favor Lila's disabilities kept her from doing, <i>I don't understand why Marinette doesn't like me</i> when Lila knew Marinette <em>knew</em> Lila was lying almost from moment one—</p><p>And—</p><p>"Arashi," Rena demands, shooting out of the alley, "where's Lila?"</p><p>"Ambulance," Arashi says, sounding breathless. "Hospital?"</p><p>"Probably." Rena dashes back towards the park, leaping the police barricades and the emergency vehicles, to where the incident command post was set up before. "Sergeant Tawfiq?" they call. The firefighter Captain Hessenpy assigned Ladybug's team earlier doesn't seem to be around to answer, nor do they see Captain Hessenpy, but the incident commander herself looks up and waves Rena over. Rena bounds up and over two other heads to land neatly in front of Chief Fontaine. "I need to find one of the victims," Rena says. "Lila Rossi. My teammate got her to the ambulance about ten minutes ago—where would she be now?"</p><p>Chief Fontaine's fingers fly across the tablet balanced in the crook of one arm. "We are unable to tell you," says the text-to-speech voice: the sweet soprano doesn't seem to match the older woman's face. She wiggles in Rena's direction the half-full water bottle she's also holding. "Not legally—medical privacy—and we may not even know. It depends upon how well the hospitals are keeping up with paperwork and whether she is able to identify herself."</p><p>Rena winces. "I don't know how she was as coherent as Arashi said she was, with as badly burned as Arashi said she looked." Rules like that exist to protect people from the authorities, as much as from anyone else. And authorities like Lieutenant Raincomprix, if they abuse their power, can be fired or jailed or penalized as is appropriate. "And I doubt she had her ID."</p><p>Rena Rouge will not be who finds out what Paris is willing to do to a superhero who goes too far. Or if Paris is willing to do anything at all.</p><p>Chief Fontaine gestures with the bottle more emphatically, the firelight catching the sheen of sweat on her brown skin.</p><p>Rena shakes their head. "You need that more than I do."</p><p>"I can get another. You look parched." Chief Fontaine keeps watching expectantly, flicking silently through her tablet, until Rena takes the bottle; the water is warm enough to taste foul, but feels blissful going down their scratchy throat nonetheless. The Chief half smiles. "What do you need to find this Lila Rossi for?"</p><p>"She might be carrying—something important. The match to this." Rena shows Chief Fontaine the earring photo.</p><p>The Chief nods. "Who might be her emergency contact? Or a close family member? Someone the hospital could discuss her case with or release her personal property to."</p><p>"Her mother!" Rena flips out her flute and calls Rose. "I need Lila's mother on the phone," they say, and barely waits for Rose's "On it" before hanging back up. "When I get hold of her, who should I contact?"</p><p>"Start with Hôpital Sainte-Geneviève."</p><p>That makes sense; it's nearest. "Thank you, Chief!"</p><p>They don't want to stick around and possibly get in people's way, so Rena heads for the Dupont roof: among the flow of people below, a damp sooty child a little older than the twins spots their leaping overhead and, hopeful, tugs at their mother's hand and shouts Rena's name. The collège must be one place the city is putting the residents of these buildings, then. The classrooms aren't exactly comfortable places to sleep—Alya should know—but that's far better than staying outside and waiting for Ladybug to put it all to rights.</p><p>Rose calls back: "No one has Mme. Rossi's number."</p><p>"—Fuck." And it does have to be <em>Madame</em> Rossi, Rena's pretty sure. Lila talks about her mother, her parents, and her grandmother—never her father individually, never her grandmother as though she's alive, and never anyone else at all. Who <em>would</em> have Lila's mother's number, then? If none of their classmates do, and Mme. Bustier doesn't—wait. "Does 'no one' include Mme. Bustier?"</p><p>"Hold on." Rose must think she's muffled herself: "Juleka, did we even ask Mme. Bustier anything?"</p><p>"I don't think so," says Juleka, "but give me a moment—"</p><p>"Give me her number," Rena interrupts, and a moment later Rose's text arrives. Rena flips comm channels again, dialing: "Mme. Bustier," they say to their teacher's sleepy mumble, "it's Rena Rouge. Can you get me Lila Rossi's emergency contacts? Her mother in particular."</p><p>"Her mother's the only one listed," Mme. Bustier says. "And I'm not sure it's legal to say even that much." Rena can hear the scuff of feet on floor. "But this is Ladybug's business, isn't it?" An electric kettle clicks to begin warming.</p><p>"Ladybug is having a horrible night," Rena says flatly. "Lila is involved. Lila is also a patient at who knows where, probably an unconscious Jeanne Dupont, and <em>we need to find her</em>."</p><p>"Mm." Mme. Bustier yawns. "Give me a mom—<em>ent</em>?" The sound of a deep inhale, then exhale. "That is a lot of fire."</p><p>Rena sighs. "You remember the day you got akumatized," they say. "You weren't there other times to protect your other students," as Alya is certain Caline Bustier would have if she could have, "but you weren't about to let Hawkmoth have Marinette. And maybe you regretted that after, when you saw how much damage Zombizou did."</p><p>Mme. Bustier wouldn't exactly be the only one. Either to hate what she blamed herself for doing and thus to hate herself for falling prey to her own hurtful impulses, or to wish someone else, someone who would have done less harm, had fallen in her stead.</p><p>"Thank you for protecting Marinette that day," Rena says. "Because as awful as Zombizou was, that wasn't as bad as Firebug is."</p><p>"…That's Marinette," Mme. Bustier realizes. "And Lila was—foolish girl. Asshole!" (Hawkmoth, Rena presumes, vaguely amused that even <em>this</em> doesn't command a terribly vicious swear: <a id="return08" name="return08"></a>'connard'<sup>[<a href="#note08">08</a>]</sup> is by far the worst thing they've ever heard their teacher say.) "Hold on."</p><p>The clacking of keys, and Mme. Bustier rattles off a string of digits; Rena types Mme. Rossi's number on their projected screen and recites it back to confirm. "Thanks," they say, and hang up, and dial.</p><p>"<i>Hello, this is Lucia Rossi,</i>" says the voicemail box, without pause for the phone to ring. "<i>I am currently unable to take your call—</i>"</p><p>Rena hangs up and dials again, watching the firelight and flashing lights play over the smoke and steam. The hissing and crackling and shouting are far too quiet beside the rushing of their blood and the pounding of their heart.</p><p>"<i>Hello, this is Lucia Rossi—</i>"</p><p>Ugh.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Rena Rouge:</i> Mme. Rossi, this is Rena Rouge. We need to find your daughter. Answer your phone.</p>
</blockquote><p>"<i>Hello, this is—</i>"</p><p>—Miraculous magic is not why Rena's flute phone has location services.</p><p>Lucia Rossi's phone GPS is on, and shows her in the Grand Paris hotel.</p><p>One cowering concierge later—it feels dishonest to rely on invoking the wrath of Chloé Bourgeois—Rena kicks open the room paid for in Lucia Rossi's name. Alya has never met Lila's mother, but the woman holding a coffee mug and wearing a sheer dressing gown and almost nothing else has the same shape face, and her loose hair is the same color.</p><p>"Who the fuck are you?" demands the man surging naked out of the bed.</p><p>Rena ignores him. "Lucia Rossi, I presume," they say to the woman.</p><p>"Who is asking?" The woman's voice is icy, but she has nothing on Firebug.</p><p><i>They say she's a liar, didn't you know?</i> </p><p>"I'm looking for Lila's mother," Rena snaps. They are looking <em>at</em> Lila's mother—the voice is the same as on the voicemail message—but if the woman wants to pretend otherwise, and to act as though she does not recognize Ladybug's first teammate bar her partner, well, Rena does not have <em>time</em> for this bullshit. "Lila was involved with tonight's akuma attack. She is likely currently in emergency care for severe burns." The woman's eyes narrow. "And we have reason to suspect," Rena continues, "that she is one of Hawkmoth's accomplices. Of her own volition."</p><p>Not <em>much</em> reason. Not <em>solid</em> reason. But sentimonsters rarely appear without an akumatized person to control them.</p><p>If Lila was holding the amok item—</p><p>"We cannot clear her name without speaking to her," Rena continues, relentless against the woman's stony expression. "If you are not Lucia Rossi, say so, so I can keep looking for someone the hospitals <em>will</em> talk to."</p><p>The woman inclines her head. "I am she."</p><p>"—What happened to single, no kids?" demands the man.</p><p>"I am certain I don't know what you mean," says Mme. Rossi, fetching her phone out from under her discarded pencil skirt while Rena googles Hôpital Sainte-Geneviève and projects the number for Mme. Rossi to call.</p><p>"Put it on speaker," Rena says.</p><p>Mme. Rossi barely acknowledges this. "Yes, I'll hold," she tells the phone.</p><p>"<em>No</em>, she will <em>not</em> hold!" Rena snarls, snatching the phone and pressing the speaker button. "This is Rena Rouge, on behalf of Ladybug and Chat Noir. <em>That</em> is the mother of someone who may be one of your unidentified emergency patients. <em>We</em> need to find that person <em>right</em>. <em>now</em>. Because I don't know if anyone <em>else</em> has noticed—"</p><p>Lucia Rossi and her paramour may not have. The window curtains are closed, and Place des Vosges is on the far side of the building.</p><p>"—but <em>our city is burning</em>." They slap the phone down beside the coffeepot.</p><p>Rena hears an indrawn breath on the other end of the line.</p><p>Mme. Rossi dresses quickly, rattling off Lila's physical description, birthdate, medical details. Her companion sits on the side of the bed, a glazed look in his eye, and doesn't question Mme. Rossi when she picks up her purse and says "I'll be right back."</p>
<hr/><p>"Made it to Sainte-Geneviève," Rena says over the comms: the sound startles Chat—his foot lands wrong—meters away the argon mask glows, Firebug looking over her shoulder, staring right at him—</p><p>Firebug shakes herself and keeps running. "No, I didn't see anything worth mentioning," she grumbles, the corners of the mask glowing eerily through her flying hair: the only light in these alleys with them, and almost the only light at all. "I already told you, if any of them get too close to me, I will know."</p><p>Kim and Alix have been playing a game called 'sneak up on Marinette' for months, and trying to bribe Adrien to share his secret to victory; Ladybug's night vision is standard-issue human, and there are reasons Marinette checks her star maps using a red-filtered flashlight, not a bluish headlamp; there is a difference between 'know' and 'tell you'. Chat's heart, bruised from the kick in the ribs Firebug gave him when Hawkmoth noticed Ladybug was trying to surrender, aches with love for her.</p><p>Humans are persistence predators. Biology Tumblr says so, providing supporting evidence for the 'humans are space orcs' posts. He doesn't dare pounce until he's certain they have the amok object in hand and he's certain he can keep her pinned: he has no choice about gambling that Ladybug, yo-yo and everything it's storing destroyed and purple butterfly freed, can feed Tikki fast enough and get the yo-yo back soon enough to cleanse the butterfly before it escapes, but—</p><p>He keeps following.</p><p>"Lila's here," Rena tells them. "She's under anesthetic—they're treating her like they would if they couldn't count on Ladybug—" Chat can <em>hear</em> the butterfly-pinning glare they must have given whichever doctor or nurse filled her in. "—and they don't want to wake her back up if they don't absolutely have to."</p><p>"Understandable," says Arashi.</p><p>Rena snarls wordlessly. Stops. "Sometimes," they growl, "being a good person <em>sucks</em>."</p><p>Chat Noir knows the feeling.</p><p>Ladybug launches her yo-yo, soaring up to the next rooftop and running on. Chat tries to keep pace on the ground: to keep following as closely, he'll have to leave the buildings' shadows, and she could notice him in a way she can't pretend to Hawkmoth she hasn't—</p><p>"I need eyes on the sentimonster," Rena says. "Whoever most needs a break, video call me."</p><p>"You heard them, Carapace," says Bunnyx.</p><p>Carapace groans. "Shut up, Lola Bunny, no one asked you."</p><p>"Uh-huh," says Rena. "Exactly how horrible are you feeling right now?"</p><p>"Headache, dizzy, queasy, tired," Carapace grumbles.</p><p>"Dehydration is a symptom of overheating," Rena informs him. "Turtles are cold-blooded."</p><p>"Losing my fireproof suit was dumb, Rena. I know. I figured that out." He sounds like Nino does when trying to tell Adrien through voice alone that he's rolling his eyes at whatever silly thing Adrien just made his game avatar do. More vicious, though; more bitter.</p><p>He probably hasn't wondered if he could have lived with himself if he'd made any other choice.</p><p>"Okay, Sparky," Rena says, "march your happy ass down to the river and jump in. Try not to step on anything flammable."</p><p>Chat double-checks where Ladybug is and where she's looking, then vaults up to the rooftop and dives for somewhere he can see the flames of Place des Vosges without his quarry seeing him.</p><p>The sentimonster leaps up into easy sight, wind-bound fire casting the city in a flickering glow, and bubbles blue-black and <em>blazes</em>—</p><p>The flames crumple into a blue-white ball that shoots into the Seine, sizzling and steaming and snuffed.</p><p>"<em>Did she just</em>—" Queen Bee sounds furious.</p><p>"Chat Noir!" Rena's frantic. "The blue feather came out of the earring and turned white—I didn't do it—"</p><p>"Did she fucking <em>Thanos snap</em> the sentimonster?" asks Bunnyx, incredulous.</p><p>"Wind Dragon!" shouts Arashi.</p><p>"Ladybug's tracker's back!" says Carapace.</p><p>Chat risks a glance around the chimney. Ladybug's standing a few meters away, facing Place des Vosges, yo-yo back on her left—nearer—hip.</p><p>"Cataclysm!" he whispers, and poises himself, and leaps.</p><p>The yo-yo crumbles into black ash under his hand and Ladybug crashes into the metal roofing under his weight.</p><p>No butterfly, except that outlined before her face. There's no butterfly—</p><p>"Whoever's not on Mayura's tail," Chat Noir says, tasting bile, "get over here."</p><p>There is no way Adrien alone can keep Firebug down. None at all.</p><p>Ladybug squeezes her eyes closed, trembling, without even twitching toward struggling to get free. Twisted as she's lying, it has to hurt; Chat shifts to pin her hips between his knees, straighten her torso, hold her unresisting wrists to her spine, as near her shoulders as he's able to press them: that will hurt her too but he doesn't dare allow Firebug any leverage. Her breath starts to catch and heave, and her eyes to leak tears; she's trying, he thinks, to smirk silently at Hawkmoth, but it keeps slipping.</p><p>His claw marks are still bleeding.</p><p>Chat's Miraculous beeps, all the pads winking out at once, and Plagg spirals free. "Ladybug," he says; she gasps and tries to twist her face away, pressing the purple glow tensely into the metal. "Ladybug," Plagg repeats in her ear, brushing loose locks out of her eyes; he glances up at Adrien, ears twitching and swiveling, and Adrien can tell his smile is pasted on, but it is a smile. <a id="return09" name="return09"></a>"You did good, shiaé pa muao," Plagg continues, nudging her cheek with his own, a soothing purr under his words. "You did <em>good</em>, xiǎo bān māo."<sup>[<a href="#note09">09</a>]</sup> Of course Plagg would call her 'tabby kitten'. "You're doing good. Just hold on a little longer."</p><p>Adrien takes both her wrists in one hand to sling his school bag off his other shoulder and fumble out a wedge of plain Camembert to hand Plagg, then bites the collar of his hoodie to work it off that arm one-handed before switching hands to get it the rest of the way off. The cheese must taste of ash and smoke—Adrien's lungs are stinging just trying to breathe—but Plagg doesn't complain, only swallows and nods.</p><p>"Plagg, claws out!"</p><p>A thread of Ladybug's muscle tension eases.</p><p>The akuma wasn't in Ladybug's hair ribbons. Nor her armor. Nor her yo-yo.</p><p>There's a song. It's not about gambling, except in all the ways it is. Adrien hasn't been to Mass since he was fourteen: in the months after Maman died—Chat Noir can admit that, though Adrien does not dare—he only managed to talk the Gorilla or Nathalie into taking him once or twice a month, and Father only ever went to Christmas and Easter Mass even when Maman was around to drag him; Adrien doesn't believe Father's ever gone without her. Meeting Plagg—the sermons rang hollow after that, the Gospels felt too fragile for everyday use, and the Eucharist tasted of dust and air. Adrien thinks he could have gone to Christmas Mass either year if he'd asked, and (given he'd gotten that Santa cosplayer akumatized) maybe he should have, but he hadn't asked.</p><p>Plagg and Tikki are the biggest gods who have ever listened to him.</p><p>Ladybug cracks open her left eye and gives Chat Noir a tiny smile.</p><p><i>When a heart breaks, no, it don't break even</i>.</p><p>Fifty-fifty, Chat Noir thinks—a coin toss: he hates these odds—and whispers "Cataclysm."</p><p><i>Please let the akuma be in this earring,</i> he prays. <i><strong>This</strong> one, not the other one.</i> He can arrange for Plagg to get all the cheese he wants, and Tikki all the sweet things she can stand—if he gets the correct earring the first try—</p><p>Ladybug closes her eyes. Chat touches one fingertip to her left earring; it crumbles away.</p><p>Her armor begins to dissolve, the other earring flaring in alarm: the light crawling across her, slowly exposing Marinette's blazer and baring patches of skin, isn't sun-bright pink like when they fought Troublemaker, but a sickening mauve, too dim for an afterimage. His power is still bubbling cool around his hand—less fiercely, like soda gone flat, but it's always before been a binary: not like potential or kinetic, but like on or off.</p><p>No butterfly flaps free.</p><p>He shouldn't—he shouldn't be surprised. The Ladybug Miraculous isn't a pair of earrings. It never was. The stones are quantum entangled; damaging part of the akumatized item hasn't been enough to free the akuma before. Breaking it past repair—</p><p>"Turn your head," Chat whispers.</p><p>Ladybug opens her mouth. Closes it. Lifts her head, shaking with one fierce sob, and lays it back down, facing the other way.</p><p>He runs the back of one knuckle over her cheek to clear off the hair—she must hate it getting in her face; he has never before tonight seen it down—and wipe away some of the tears.</p><p>
  <i>Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.</i>
</p><p>The butterfly escapes the ashes of her earring: he could follow the argon glow of its wings; he doesn't. The fires, blocks away, flare and fade: not extinguished, not nearly, but burning less fiercely. Violet shadows bubble over Ladybug and are gone.</p><p>Chat releases Marinette at once: "Hey, LB," he says, kneeling beside her with one hand on her shoulder, trying to project trust and soothing affection; it's hard when he's shaking. "I need you to stay calm, okay? I need you to trust me. This is not as bad as it looks. It could get worse in a hurry, but it won't as long as you stay calm."</p><p>"What do you <em>mean</em> this is not as bad as it looks?" shrieks Queen Bee.</p><p>Is he on comms? "Shut up, Queen Bee."</p><p>"Mayura got away," Arashi reports, with the edge to her voice that Adrien knows means Kagami thinks she's failed.</p><p>"Noted," Chat says, trying not to sound too disgusted: Marinette and Kagami will each hear it as directed at her and her alone, not at himself or anyone else. "It is still not as bad as it looks." Mayura was probably planning to bolt at any moment all along, and Marinette is doing badly enough as it is: she's biting back her whimpers, but not her tears. "Bug, come on, let's get you up, all right?" He rolls her over and up, keeping one supporting hand between her pigtail-bared shoulder blades—not carefully enough: her face twists in pain. "Ladybug, you with me?"</p><p>"…Chat Noir?"</p><p>Marinette's whisper, free of the butterfly net, is one of the most beautiful sounds he's ever heard.</p><p>She blinks down at her hand, pale and bare, not gloved in black-spotted red. "What happened?"</p><p>—There is no way they can even <em>begin</em> to catch her up without upsetting her badly enough to bring that butterfly back.</p><p>"The last I remember—"</p><p>"Shh," Chat interrupts, trying to keep his voice soft. "Let's talk later, please?" He fishes her sports bottle out of his pocket—it doesn't fit in there any more than it fit in her yo-yo, nor any less—and opens it, mindful not to jar her. (It doesn't work. He can hear it doesn't work.) "Drink this, and let's get you something to eat and maybe a nap, and I bet you're still bleeding. Maslow's hierarchy, right, my lady?" It's something, right? If nothing else, keeping her calm and putting off telling her will buy them time? "Let's get you stable again before we go upsetting you any more."</p><p>Marinette takes the bottle in her shaking hand and moves to drink; she spills some, and he steadies her hand, as best he can.</p><p>"We'll tell you everything once you're feeling better." He'll tell her everything now, if she asks. "But let's take it slow."</p><p>She swallows the first mouthful. "I got akumatized," she guesses. "And the butterfly got away."</p><p>"Yeah. I'm sorry."</p><p>Marinette turns slowly, taking in the night, the slowly dimming glow of the city burning. Lifts her free hand to one bare earlobe, then the other. Then folds sideways, her head to Chat's chest. "I am—am not," she says, quavering, "going to ask where Tikki is."</p><p>—Shit, he hadn't even <em>thought</em> of that.</p><p>"Chat?" she asks, setting the bottle down, and sniffles; he holds her closer, as gently as he can. "Are you—are you <em>really</em> optimistic here, or— Because I'm <em>going</em> to think of all the worst case scenarios. I can't—I can't <em>help</em> it."</p><p>"I am really optimistic here," Chat assures her. Even without Tikki—and Plagg assured him he hadn't even temporarily killed Pollen when Chloé was Queen Wasp; Tikki's probably furious but it's impossible that she's dead—even without Tikki, it honestly <em>isn't</em> as bad as it could be. "We have a plan to get back out of this. Or we will once we figure out everything you can't remember telling us. Only three buildings caught fire, I think?"</p><p>"Only three," Rena confirms. Not over comms: Chat and Marinette both look up to see Rena Rouge and Queen Bee landing beside them.</p><p>Chat nods, and grins, a feral cat's vicious triumph. "And contrary to what he thought a moment ago, Hawkmoth doesn't have the Ladybug Miraculous <em>either</em>."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Content notes: vomiting, familial queer-hating attitudes. Also dubcon—by which I mean implied sexual activity, which is not even dubiously consensual to the author's mind, but the reason readers might consider it dubcon is implicit in the text and the reason the author's certain it's consensual is entirely offscreen. <sup>[<a href="#creturn05">return</a>]</sup><br/> </p><p><a href="https://alexseanchai.tumblr.com/post/187925008980/prokopetz-vondell-swain-vondell-swain">A visual aid for the sentimonster</a>.<br/> </p><p><a id="note08" name="note08"></a><i>08:</i> 'connard': asshole, in masculine. If Mme. Bustier meant to refer to Lila, she would use the feminine 'connasse'. <sup>[<a href="#return08">return</a>]</sup></p><p><a id="note09" name="note09"></a><i>09:</i> 小斑貓: Mandarin 'xiǎo bān māo'; Wēnzhōuhuà 'shiaé pa muao'; English 'little tabby cat' <sup>[<a href="#return09">return</a>]</sup><br/> </p><p>Some cheerleaders I wanna thank by name: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveradept/profile"></a><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveradept"><b>silveradept</b></a>; <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/azurelunatic/profile"></a><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/azurelunatic"><b>azurelunatic</b></a>; <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalahadWilder/profile"></a><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalahadWilder"><b>GalahadWilder</b></a>; <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chanter/profile"></a><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chanter"><b>Chanter</b></a>. Y'all are the <em>best</em>!<a id="random05" name="random05"></a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. something I won't recognize</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>And I am the Queen of Wands<br/>who never went away<br/>where would I go?</p><p>the flame is central<br/>to any civilization<br/>any household</p><p>any bag of bones. Any motley mote<br/>you've got, of<br/>little mustard seed can grow<br/>into a yellow spicy flame<br/>as you must know.</p><p>—<i>excerpted from</i> "<a href="https://poetry.dreamwidth.org/8563.html">The Queen of Wands</a>", <a href="http://judygrahn.org/the-author/">Judy Grahn</a></p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a id="creturn06" name="creturn06"></a>Chapter-specific content notes are in the chapter end notes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chat Noir's words don't make sense at first. Of <em>course</em> Hawkmoth doesn't have the earrings: they're right here, aren't they? Firebug had them, Ladybug is never without them, they must be right—</p><p>—right here—</p><p>Rena turns to look over the city. Two buildings are burning down by Place des Vosges: a couple dozen businesses, perhaps a hundred family homes. Marinette's family's business and family home are among them. A few blocks northeast, that cheap hotel: people <em>live</em> there, they think, paying week by week to keep a roof over their head—even though it would be cheaper to pay monthly for an apartment—because their income isn't steady enough for any landlord to trust.</p><p>People lived there.</p><p>"We should do a video," Rena says, shaky. "Ladyblog. PSA. Let them know—it might—we can't fix this yet."</p><p>Marinette buries her face in Chat Noir's shoulder. He rests his head on hers and breathes in.</p><p>Queen Bee frowns at them, then nods. "I can do that. Just tell me what—what I shouldn't say. And should."</p><p>"No." Chat doesn't move. "Thank you, Queen Bee, but no. I'll do it."</p><p>"We," says Marinette. She pushes herself to sit straighter, glancing Rena's way; Chat shifts his posture to accommodate her. "Um. Maybe. Mirage glitches when touched."</p><p>Rena blinks at her.</p><p>"Like she did to trick Miraculer?" asks Queen Bee, her attention on her top. Something flares white: a moment and it's dark again, the afterimage dancing before Rena's eyes. "Ha, flashlight mode. I'll handle lighting."</p><p>"…You want to talk to Paris as Ladybug," Chat says. "Even—"</p><p>He falls silent. Marinette nods.</p><p>And she probably doesn't want to let go of her partner to do it. "I can do an illusion that covers both of you," Rena tells them. "That should be fine as long as no one else touches you. …I think."</p><p>Chat shrugs, unclipping his baton from his belt. "We'll find out, I guess. Rena, figure out your camera angle so we can figure out where to put Queen Bee with the key light." The baton's flashlight mode lights up Marinette's pink jeans; Chat dials the brightness down, but even at maybe one-quarter lit, Rena notices something they bet Marinette does <em>not</em> want her partner's attention on. "Oh good," Chat mutters, "we're not stuck with low-key lighting."</p><p>"Low-key what?" Rena says blankly. They've heard the phrase from Nino—some cinematography technique he hasn't actually filmed anything with yet—but <em>huh</em>?</p><p>"I mean, if we <em>want</em> our 'hey Paris, don't panic yet' video to look like film noir," Chat says dryly, setting the baton down to gently rearrange Marinette. "Or worse, horror."</p><p>"Spoilers, Rena," says Carapace over the comm, "that is not what we want."</p><p>Rena rolls their eyes, belatedly getting out their flute. "Go soak your head." Then they think about that. "I might mean that literally."</p><p>"You do," Arashi says. "Juliette the EMT is telling him to go get in a cool bath <em>now</em>. Before she has to toss him in the back of the ambulance too."</p><p>"Right," says Chat. "Arashi, go dump him in Chloé's bathtub. Grand Paris imperial suite."</p><p>"<em>Hey</em>—"</p><p>"Bunnyx," Chat says over Carapace's protest. "I hope he's competent to run his own bath, <em>but</em>."</p><p>"He's not <em>that</em> much bigger than you," Bunnyx muses, and Rena has to clap one hand over their mouth to bite back the hideously inappropriate laughter.</p><p>(No way does Bunnyx, whoever she is, have intimate knowledge of Nino's dick. Odds are Chat Noir <em>has</em> one, but—as Alix and Marc in particular like to remind people—that's a rude thing to assume, and odds are Bunnyx doesn't know any more here than Rena does. Bunnyx is not actually making this joke.)</p><p>(Still.)</p><p>Marinette frowns. "What—"</p><p>"—Oh." Chat taps his baton on his knee, glaring at it, until an earpiece falls out; Marinette takes it, and Chat flips the baton to land, balanced on one end, to illuminate them both from half a meter away. "Okay, team, Ladybug's on comms. Queen Bee—" He gestures to the other side of Rena from the baton. "Key light. Shoulder height maybe?"</p><p>"Mirage!" Rena says, as Queen Bee positions herself. The illusion of Chat Noir and Ladybug overlays the reality of Chat Noir and Marinette: he almost looks no different—there's only a shimmery sort of overlay over them both that Rena is pretty sure they aren't actually seeing, it just looks like they are—but she looks like Rena's just dialed the opacity of the Marinette layer and the Chat's-things layer down to 75% and added a Ladybug layer on top at 50%. Rena flips out the flute's camera and screen, which shows them what everyone else is seeing: Ladybug should look more sweaty, sooty, and disheveled, they decide, and then Ladybug <em>does</em> look no better than Chat does. "Move a little," Rena directs, and Marinette lets her head fall back to Chat's shoulder. The illusion layer moves with her without a ripple. "Okay, we're good on that. Ready to roll camera?"</p><p>"Sure," says Chat; "Nope," says Marinette.</p><p>Chat sighs. "Let's get this over with," he tells her, voice soft. "I can do all the talking."</p><p>Marinette straightens with a grimace—Rena decides not to try to hide that expression or any other; they're pretty sure they <em>could</em> make Ladybug look and sound bright, peppy, and ebullient, but it might not reassure Paris, and Rena would certainly get glared at later for lying—and tucks herself more securely into Chat Noir's one-armed embrace. "Okay."</p><p>"Three," says Rena. "—I'm gonna record, by the way. Not live-stream. In case we need to edit anything." They both nod; Rena starts again. "Three. Two. One. Action."</p><p>"Hey, Paris," says Chat Noir with a weak smile, then sombers. "I want to thank all the emergency response personnel who came to our city's aid tonight. I know the names Chief Fontaine, Captain Hessenpy, and Emergency Medical Technician Juliette. But between fire, police, and medical, there must be dozens of you everyday superheroes out there tonight.</p><p>"And I want to apologize to everyone who got hurt tonight, or who can't sleep in your own bed right now, or open your shop doors in the morning. And to all of you everyday heroes whose jobs will be harder for a while.</p><p>"Because Ladybug got hurt tonight. My fault. She couldn't catch this akuma, and she can't call Miraculous Cure."</p><p>"Your fault my ass, Chat Noir," says Ladybug, quiet but clear. "The last time I let an akuma get away was the first time. Stoneheart. You all remember those first two days, I think. The very first attack, there was only one of Stoneheart, but because I let that butterfly get away, the next day there were several. Beginning the moment that akuma victim got upset enough to be vulnerable again, there were several."</p><p>(That Ivan Bruel was Stoneheart is public knowledge, and likely common knowledge.)</p><p>Ladybug swallows. "Tonight's akuma victim has volunteered to—to play bait, more or less. We want to cleanse the butterfly before it can reach her again. But we might not be able to do that. And there are probably already dozens of Parisians transformed into Firebug statues, who will, if Firebug returns, probably have Firebug's same powers."</p><p>(Alya Césaire, Ladyblogger, is envying the hell out of Rena Rouge right now. Rena's trembling. Rena's camera is steady as stone.)</p><p>"Which means," Chat says, "this could get a lot worse before it gets better. <em>But</em>," he emphasizes, holding up one finger and pulling Ladybug a little closer, "don't lose hope. Our team needs as much of a break as we can get—I don't know about anyone else," he adds, more rueful than wry, "but I need dinner, a shower, and a night's sleep—"</p><p>"Please tell me," interrupts Ladybug, twisting to look up at him, "you mean breakfast. Or at least a big midnight snack."</p><p>Chat winces. "Are you going to yell at me if I say I mean dinner?"</p><p>The light from Queen Bee's top wavers. Ladybug slumps against Chat. "No," she says, tone flat and dull, "but I will tie you up and force-feed you if I need to. You were out here fighting for <em>how</em> many hours, and you haven't eaten since <em>when</em>? Do you have any self-preservation instinct whatsoever? Don't answer that."</p><p>"Wasn't planning to," Chat mutters, and returns his attention to the camera. "So, Parisians. We need you to plan for the worst right now. I saw you taking time to help each other tonight—improvising smoke masks, sharing coats and blankets, keeping each other from panicking—and we need you to keep doing that. But we also need you to remember something.</p><p>"We made you a promise, right when we started. We promised to do everything in our power to keep you safe.</p><p>"And we <em>will</em> honor that promise."</p><p>Chat gestures, a flat sharp motion; Rena stops the recording and drops the illusion. Chat leans over to grab his baton.</p><p>Queen Bee dims her light. "That sounded good," she says. "Direct, optimistic, mostly honest, truthful even where you're being misleading, and the only part I think Hawkmoth wouldn't already know is you were out here kicking ass on no dinner. Which I think you should tell Alya <em>not</em> to edit out," she adds, with a vicious edge to her smile. "Let him worry about how easily you'll beat his ass when you're rested and fed."</p><p>"Agreed," says Arashi. Chat Noir almost smiles.</p><p>"The only part he wouldn't know that we're not deliberately feeding him, you mean," Rena realizes, dialing Juleka. They already have the video uploading—their pendant hasn't warned them of their countdown (thank you, Trixx), but they're down to two segments, and maybe their flute has a video editing app and maybe it doesn't but their phone certainly does—so when Juleka says "What do you need?", Rena can answer "Another video, same instructions. And then most of you can go to sleep."</p><p>Juleka says "Got it!" as Luka speaks over her: "Have you found Marinette?"</p><p>Rena glances at Chat Noir, who looks like he might fall asleep right here on the rooftop if Queen Bee weren't chivvying him up, and at Marinette with Chat's messenger bag over her shoulder, who looks tempted to suffocate herself in the dark fabric of what must be his hoodie. "Yeah, we did."</p><p>"Is she okay?" Luka asks.</p><p>"No," Rena says. "Not really." They think about how Viperion's power is supposed to work—infinite do-overs, at least in theory, however subject to the five-minute limit; they doubt any Snake wielder has gone much into the triple digits, that'd be maddening—and how helpless they keep feeling when Alya is watching an akuma attack, and adds "She needs somewhere to sleep, though. Could you—"</p><p>"We're not going to the <i>Liberty</i>," Chat interrupts, hoisting himself and Marinette up with the aid of his extending baton and Queen Bee's hands. "I want to send skater girl to the party on the <i>Liberty</i>, so if anything else explodes around us, everyone on the bench can get in the game."</p><p>"—Never mind that, Luka," says Rena. (What <em>is</em> Bunnyx's superpower?) "Chat Noir says you're getting a house guest who isn't Marinette, and—" Their pendant lets out the one-minute alarm. "—I need to recharge <em>now</em> and I want off this roof first. Bye!" Call disconnected, they turn to Queen Bee. "Are we invading your place, then?"</p><p>"Sure, whatever," Queen Bee says. "Not much choice if we don't want to spill any other secret identities. Our staff's going to be busy with all the people who live in those apartment buildings, though."</p><p>Rena blinks at her. "But they were all going to Dupont?"</p><p>No time to clear that up, though. They leap off the roof, hit the sidewalk running, and make it into the relative safety of a dark alley before their armor evaporates. Trixx flops onto Alya's palm, winded, and Alya slides down to sit against the alley wall, their scraped knees and palms stinging afresh. Hopefully whatever magic means Marinette's bag hasn't been banging against their side for hours has also handled any food safety concerns with the packet of roast beef they fish out. They roll up one slice one-handed and set it beside Trixx, then roll up another for themself.</p><p>Then put it back in the packet and scrub their hand uselessly on the thigh of their jeans. It doesn't smell like—</p><p>It doesn't.</p><p>"Trixx," Alya says, and chokes on the sentence <i>my best friend is Ladybug</i>. On <i>Ladybug trusted me with a Miraculous, <strong>me</strong>, first of anyone but Chat Noir</i>. On <i>Ladybug and Chat Noir want to mislead Hawkmoth, and they're using the Ladyblog to do it</i>.</p><p>That would never work if they didn't believe Hawkmoth builds strategies around what he learns from Alya's blog.</p><p>"Trixx," they repeat, and Trixx gulps the other half of the roll-up and nestles themself in the curve of Alya's neck. The smoke in the air stings their eyes.</p>
<hr/><p>Queen Bee marches past the Grand Paris's doorkeeper like a princess entering her castle, or a captain her command. Chat Noir follows, partially quieting his still-embarrassing purring to soothe his too-quiet partner; it shouldn't be possible for the doorkeeper or concierge to recognize her, not from two bare feet sticking out from under Adrien's hoodie—Chat doesn't think her pink capris are particularly identifying either, but whatever—but the concierge looks up from the desk and says "Chat Noir! Queen Bee! …Ladybug?"</p><p>Marinette's fingers tighten around his bell.</p><p>Chat has never seen Chloé as hesitant as Queen Bee's glance at him now. He sends her a pleading look: he'll carry his lady to the ends of the earth if she needs him to—she's his whole world; of course he will—but in fetal position, she is awkward to carry. She is also probably injured and definitely bleeding, on top of several other problems he can do nothing about while carrying her. And he really, <em>really</em> doesn't want to try to explain a <em>single fucking thing</em> to anyone he doesn't already know they can trust.</p><p>With a sharp nod, Queen Bee turns back to the concierge. "Have someone unlock my suite, Hanan," she tells her. "Why weren't the residents of those burning buildings sent <em>here</em>?"</p><p>Hanan quails. "M. Bourgeois said—the expense—"</p><p>Queen Bee stiffens. With jerky motions, she silences Hanan, then stalks across the lobby, scanning the walls and ceiling: she stops, glaring up at what must be a security camera. "Ladyblog viewers," she says in a carrying voice, "this is Queen Bee speaking from the Grand Paris lobby, a short walk from Place des Vosges and from the residential buildings tonight's akuma attack destroyed. Do I understand that Mayor Bourgeois overrode the emergency response incident commander on where to shelter the people who live in those buildings, at the request of Hôtelier Bourgeois, because it would cost him too much <em>money</em>?</p><p>"Do I <em>understand correctly</em>, Mayor Bourgeois?</p><p>"Because I <em>heard</em> Hôtelier Bourgeois complaining two days ago that the hotel is only at about sixty percent occupancy this week. That means there are about forty rooms <em>empty</em>. That means there's enough open beds with adjacent bathrooms for <em>one hundred sixty people</em>. Two hundred forty if they're friendly.</p><p>"Not wanting to pay anyone to care for these guests makes Hôtelier Bourgeois sound selfish and greedy, don't you think, Mayor Bourgeois? What a splendid reelection campaign slogan that will make. Don't ask your daughter to help you think of one that will play better in Ladybug's city, either. She <em>will</em> tell you to <em>buzz off</em>."</p><p>Queen Bee's transformation falls in honey-yellow sparkles, Pollen spiraling in to land on Chloé's shoulder. Chloé herself does not move.</p><p>"Parisians," she says with a clearly forced sort of calm, "this is Chloé Bourgeois on behalf of the Grand Paris. If thanks to Hawkmoth you have nowhere to sleep tonight, come to the Grand Paris. And Grand Paris employees," she adds with what Chat bets is a wry twist to her expression, "please get to work."</p><p>Chloé returns to the front desk, one hand protectively cradling Pollen. "Submit that segment of security footage to the Ladyblog," she tells Hanan, and hesitates, and adds "Please." Then leans over to snag a notepad and pen. "Ladybug, Chat Noir, what will you want to eat?"</p><p>Marinette makes a small sad noise and buries her face in his chest.</p><p>Chat holds her a little tighter. "Cheese, especially Camembert, macarons, fruit, especially berries, honey, an extra spicy serving of one of the main dishes, and stuff to make tea with," he rattles off as Chloé scribbles. "Rena Rouge and Carapace will want something vegetarian—no bell peppers or chili peppers, Carapace can't. Arashi probably wants seafood but I'm not sure, and I don't know what she can't eat."</p><p>Kagami likes sushi but doesn't have high opinions of most of what Paris has to offer, which tells him approximately nothing about what might screw with her health or go against her religious instruction or have an inedible texture, except that she isn't vegan. And <i>Longg loves spicy foods, the hotter the better</i> is the only thing Chat Noir knows about what dragons eat. (Storm dragons, anyway. The fire-breathing sort obviously like barbecue.) Which might not mean a damn thing for what <em>Arashi</em> should be eating, whether Kagami has already started to mold herself to the Dragon Miraculous or not; Plagg's food preferences certainly don't reflect Chat Noir's Miraculous-influenced nutritional needs, nor Tikki's what Ladybug's told him of her own.</p><p>"Ladybug and I need meat," Chat continues. "She'll be happier if it's insect protein; someone else will be happier if it's red meat; I don't care as long as it's not pig." Chloé will be insulted if Chat Noir tries to tell her <em>that</em> she needs to eat, though, never mind <em>what</em>, and it isn't as though he's certain anyway, so he says, "And we could all do with some sweets, I think. I vote for baklava." He's forgetting something; what is he— "Oh, and lots of ice water and lots of flavored electrolyte water."</p><p>"What about Bunnyx?" asks Chloé, and adds to the furiously typing Hanan, "Call Chef Césaire."</p><p>Chat shrugs, carefully: Marinette is heavier than she looks. "Feed whoever's at Juleka's, which may or may not include Bunnyx, civilian or otherwise. I'll call her in a bit and make sure she's eaten."</p><p>Chloé eyes him. "Go up to my suite before you fall over."</p><p>"Yes, Your Highness," Chat says, rolling his eyes, and heads for the elevator.</p><p>To Hanan, Chloé mutters, "I do <em>not</em> believe I just did that—what should I do next? Other than call Sabrina, I think I shouldn't call Sabrina—"</p><p>"Thanks, Chloé," Chat calls back over his shoulder. The moment the elevator car opens, he slumps against its wall, trying to stay upright: if he sits down right now, he isn't entirely sure he'll be able to get up again.</p><p>He's outside Chloé's door, waiting for one of the hotel staff to unlock it for them, before it occurs to him Marinette should have reacted to that.</p><p>The suite, once Océane the housekeeper has closed the door behind them, is quiet. "Carapace?" calls Chat Noir, heading left; no one answers. He directs a mental frown at the comms: "Carapace?" he repeats.</p><p>"Arashi and I are on the roof," Carapace says. "She said it'd be more efficient to drop me in the swimming pool. And then she went all Water Dragon so I don't freeze getting out."</p><p>"…can't argue with that," Chat supposes, and decides not to ask what the pool is doing uncovered. It's probably weird as hell for Nino, though. He's not sure about Kagami. "We're in Chloé's suite." And if Carapace is in the pool… "Queen Bee is having food and stuff sent up."</p><p>"Food like what?" Carapace asks, voice scratchy, and starts coughing.</p><p>"Not bacon." Chat hops the first set of steps up to Chloé's bedroom. "I don't know. I don't want to think for a while. Hey, Bug, look," he adds, turning into the bathroom, "shower's free."</p><p>He bets she wants one. All Nino's joking about Adrien's akuma-adrenaline–spawned showers aside—or, more embarrassingly, all Nino's joking about Adrien's 'trick Ladybug into seeing me naked'–prompted showers aside (since it has never once been anything but a tactic to get Chat Noir out the bathroom window while no one would dare check to be sure Adrien was where he said he would be)—being clean always helps. Especially after attacks like Princess Fragrance or Dark Cupid.</p><p>(The Ladybug Miraculous is ashes. Paris is burning.)</p><p>Marinette's gaze stays distant, downcast, and unfocused. When he moves the potted orchid to the dresser top so he can put her on the stool, trying to hold her steady without dropping his messenger bag (it's still lumpy under his hoodie, but she isn't clutching it to her stomach anymore), he drops the flowerpot instead: <em>Chat Noir</em> leaps back from the shattering ceramic, cat ears flattened back, but <em>Marinette</em>—who didn't see the pot fall—doesn't even blink.</p><p>Chat draws a smoke-flavored breath and lets it out, settling her on the stool. "LB?" he asks, trying to get his ears back upright and untwitching (it's not like affecting cheerfulness for the camera; his lashing tail is a lost cause) as he eases the hoodie up to reclaim his bag and therefore her shoes. He will replace Chloé's orchid and the dirt is the least of his worries, but he's already shed her blood tonight. "I'm really starting to—"</p><p>Green light flares.</p><p>"—to worry here," Adrien finishes weakly, dry-mouthed. Even slumped as she is, he can see her eyes, which means she can see his unmasked face—Ladybug trusted Adrien with the Snake Miraculous; he doesn't know why but now he knows how she knew him—and she <em>isn't reacting</em>. "Say something, do something, <em>please</em>—"</p><p>"Kit, stop." Plagg flies up to nuzzle Adrien's cheek, then over to Marinette's. "The more you pester her right now, the longer she'll take to come out of it."</p><p>"…okay," says Adrien. Plagg doesn't sound sarcastic, but— "She's—I don't know, tuned out—like this before? What happened? When?" Plagg's almost always with Adrien, and <em>Adrien</em> has never seen her like this before—Chat Noir comes closer, but even at her worst moments of frozen indecision, Ladybug has never been <em>unresponsive</em>—</p><p>(Catatonic, he thinks, scrubbing his hands down his thighs and feeling the sleek denim over the beads in his pocket, and wants bitterly to laugh.)</p><p>"Dunno. Wasn't her personally." Plagg phases into the messenger bag and comes out with one of Marinette's ballet flats. "Get a piss break and a glass of water before you get any <em>worse</em> dehydrated."</p><p>Adrien's not—whatever. More importantly, Plagg held on more than ten minutes past the five-minute safety bell. "Eat," he tells Plagg, ducking into the toilet alcove. It shouldn't be an order—Adrien <em>promised</em>—but it's at least thirty seconds of cycling through <i>plate place pledge plead</i> before Adrien remembers to soften his words with "Please."</p><p>"Yeah, yeah." Plagg's voice is muffled. "Don't forget to flush."</p><p>"<em>One</em> time," Adrien mutters, half for show, and flushes, then knocks the faucet on with an elbow. He looks wrong in the mirror: hair too short to be Chat Noir's, parted down the side. "If you haven't seen Marinette herself like this, then how—"</p><p><a id="return10" name="return10"></a>"Agyinamoa. ʻIole Uliuli. Kumbang Merah. I have been around the sun a few times, brat. I know things."<sup>[<a href="#note10">10</a>]</sup></p><p>Adrien opens his mouth to protest that he is <em>not</em> a brat—he hasn't given anyone reason to call him that in <em>years</em>, not even his father—and remembers he doesn't know if Father took the aspirin Nathalie wanted, and Chloé's honey almond soap bar falls from his slick hands and dents its corner inside the sink.</p><p>"—Kit?" Plagg says with foggy, faraway desperation. "<em>Breathe</em>, kitten, I need you to breathe, <em>she</em> needs you to breathe, I can't take care of both of you at once—"</p><p>His lady needs him his lady needs him his lady needs him—</p><p>He can't—his lady needs him—he <em>can't</em>—he—</p><p>He—</p><p>Piano music—he knows the melody—Fantasy, Mozart, D minor: the adagio, his own performance: Ladybug's ringtone! Why would she be—when she's right—</p><p>Adrien takes a breath. Another. Braces himself on the porcelain and pushes himself upright. Marinette is balancing her phone on her knee, and it's visibly dialing; she doesn't seem to notice him, but her thumb brushes the end-call icon, and in his pocket, Adrien's phone falls silent.</p><p>"Sorry, Bug," Adrien murmurs, rinsing his hands. No sticky redness stains his fingertips, nor will he find blood on his claws when next he wears them, but— "I'm so sorry."</p><p>"Worry about that later," Plagg tells them, shoving Marinette's other shoe between her foot and the floor. He darts through Marinette's upturned purse and up to her shoulder. "Her bag of holding's gone. That's a problem."</p><p>Is it? It's right at Adrien's feet, the zipped case of her emergency sewing kit spilled beside it. Sabrina complained this afternoon that Marinette is better prepared for anything Chloé might need than Sabrina is—not that Sabrina can hand-sew the straight seam Chloé's skirt needed right then to begin with—and Adrien remembers hearing Rose ask how Marinette always knows what to put in her little purse each morning, and Alix (less confident in Marinette's prescience, or else certain her pocket first aid kit is a permanent fixture) how she Tetrised everything in there; that's <em>why</em> Mylène started joking about wondrous adventuring gear—</p><p>The purse is empty. No little case with bandages and antibiotic ointment, no colored pencils or little sketchbook that he <em>knows</em> he saw Marinette put in there before walking away from Adrien, and no…whatever she keeps on hand for menstruation. <em>Fuck</em>.</p><p>Adrien kicks the worst of the dirt and pot shards out of the way and snags a neatly folded lemon-chiffon hand towel to drop on the rest, so he can sit next to Marinette's stool while he unlocks his phone and pulls up Chat Noir's texts to Alya.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> alya it's chat noir, urgent mission for ladyblogger</p>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> lb got butterflied. tell paris i need rena rouge and carapace</p>
</blockquote><p>The timestamp on the read receipt starts with 19h. The clock on Adrien's phone tells him it isn't yet midnight.</p><p>"Plagg?" Adrien says, quiet. "Can you get us both that water?"</p><p>"Sure thing, kit."</p><p>Adrien's thumb is too slow on his touchscreen:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> do you know and can you get her usual period stuff?</p>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> can she borrow lounge pants and a tank top or something?</p>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> how much blood before i start worrying there's more to this</p>
</blockquote><p>(He has Rena's contact too, if he needs it.)</p><p>Plagg hovers with a glass of water near Adrien's face. He takes it with the hand he's trying not to wrap around Marinette's ankle or over the hand she's draped over her left knee—regardless of how physically affectionate Ladybug ever is with Chat Noir, when Adrien touches Marinette, it's rarely a question of <em>whether</em> she will be nervous, only <em>how much</em>—and tries to drink slowly. She can't Lucky Break him out of vomiting again. She probably doesn't know she could ever heal at all.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Red All Over:</i> I'm always lucky if my panties come out looking like a murder scene, not the Napoleonic wars</p>
</blockquote><p>Note to self: fix their contact name to some <em>other</em> journalism pun.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Red All Over:</i> already thought of pajamas. doesn't she have pads and clean panties in her purse?</p>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> nope</p>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> ordinary purse rn, not bag of holding</p>
  <p><i>Red All Over:</i> …</p>
</blockquote><p>A splat, a tiny whimper: Adrien twists around to find a patch of Marinette's hoodie is soaked. Her brows are furrowed, her eyes squeezed tight, and she's biting her lip. "Plagg?" Adrien asks.</p><p>"Nobody's real graceful right now," Plagg says tiredly from the direction of the sink. "Don't spill yours either."</p><p>That…actually is a concern, isn't it. The water in his glass is wobbling. Damn.</p><p>Marinette's hand finds Adrien's hair, then his left ear—the human one; she pushes till he relents (does <em>she</em> want his head on her thigh? what <em>for</em>?) and starts to rub his scalp behind where his cat ear should be. He can't help but melt into delighted purring.</p><p>…Why <em>now</em>?</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Red All Over:</i> OH</p>
  <p><i>Red All Over:</i> well damn</p>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> period stuff y/n</p>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> at least come to qb's with first aid kit</p>
</blockquote><p>Plagg takes the refilled glass the long way back to Marinette, brushing past Adrien's cheek on the way by.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Red All Over:</i> working on it! trying to not get caught!</p>
  <p><i>Red All Over:</i> why is Manman even UP at midnight</p>
  <p><i>Red All Over:</i> waking all the little siblings, I am in so much trouble later</p>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> her boss called</p>
  <p><i>Red All Over:</i> oh</p>
  <p><i>Red All Over:</i> be there soon</p>
</blockquote><p>Another text notification pops up to the sound of Adrien playing the first bar of the first prelude of Bach's <i>Well-Tempered Clavier</i>:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Buguinette:</i> u ok?</p>
</blockquote><p>That was not her contact name this afternoon. Either of her—the contacts were 'Lovebug' and 'Sewfisticated' last he looked—though now he might understand why Ladybug kept snapping at him over this particular endearment. She's texting him as Chat Noir, though, not as Adrien, so it's probably Plagg up to something, or else Plagg's magic again doing what Adrien wants without either of them particularly telling it to.</p><p>"More worried about you, my lady," Adrien murmurs, turning his head just enough to nose gently at her thigh.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Buguinette:</i> u b ok?</p>
</blockquote><p>There are so many things she needs him to do right now and he <em>cannot</em>. He doesn't have the tools, or the willpower to so much as get up to get the hoodie off her so he can see how bad her back is, or he simply doesn't know <em>how</em>.</p><p>"Once you are," says Adrien.</p>
<hr/><p>Rena Rouge lands empty-handed on Chloé's balcony, tips over a lounge chair to hide behind, murmurs "Let's rest," and lets go of Anansi's carry-on suitcase; it promptly falls over. They hand Trixx another roast beef roll-up, then shrug Etta's duffel bag and Marinette's messenger bag and their own backpack off their shoulders. "Ladybug?" Alya calls, peeking through the weave of the chair fabric. Chloé's living room is well lit, but it looks like no one's in there. "Chat Noir?"</p><p>"Speak, friend, and enter," their boyfriend calls back.</p><p>"Can't! No mask!"</p><p>Arashi, flame-patterned design abandoned in favor of her original goldenrod armor, enters the room, glances over the heap of baggage, and comes to open the sliding door. "I'll take some of that."</p><p>"Unconventional uses for Miraculous magic," Alya says, "luggage cart." At Trixx's nod, they transform, right the chair, and give Arashi a grateful smile.</p><p>"Luggage?" asks Arashi, collecting the duffel and tilting the suitcase back up so she can roll it inside.</p><p>Carapace leans through the archway from the foyer, a mostly empty glass of some blue stuff in one hand. "Movie night?"</p><p>"Movie night," Rena confirms, dumping their backpack and Marinette's messenger bag on the coffee table so they can flop face-first onto the nearer sofa. "If she's. Um."</p><p>"Not sure if she's um." Carapace glances back over his shoulder. "First aid kit?" he asks Rena. They reach over and flap the messenger bag strap. "Sweet. Grab food and water before Mama Cat starts yelling at you—" Rena groans at Carapace and Chat Noir both. "—and then I think Chat Noir wants your help with—with Ladybug."</p><p>"Your boyfriend thinks he's insulting me," says an unfamiliar voice. "He's wrong."</p><p>"Plagg!" That's definitely Chat Noir. "Is that Rena?"</p><p>"Yeah," calls—is Plagg Ladybug's kwami? "They brought stuff."</p><p>"Oh good! Rena, get over here."</p><p>"Eat and drink first," Plagg orders, and something small and fuzzy like Trixx bumps up against Rena's cheek. They turn—no, that is definitely <em>Chat Noir</em>'s kwami, what the hell. (Which means that's technically not Chat Noir right now. Which means he isn't anyone whose voice Alya knows.) "Unless you had enough sense to do that already."</p><p>Rena shrugs, rolling off the sofa onto the floor. "I had a protein bar. And some orange juice."</p><p>"That works," Carapace says, giving Rena a hand up. "What's the rest of the stuff?"</p><p>"Sleeping bags in the suitcase." Rena gets Marinette's first aid kit out of the messenger bag and glances around to find, then snag, the duffel. "Pajamas and stuff for you, me, and Marinette in here. And I don't know if I'm going to school tomorrow, but if I am, I should probably pretend to have—"</p><p>They stop and stare at the tables set up in the foyer.</p><p>"—my homework done. Three cheers for the restaurant staff, wow."</p><p>"Thanks; it's the least we can do," says one of the restaurant employees who's setting platters on the food table. "Arashi—gyūdon, right?" she adds, indicating a bowl of steaming rice and soy-scented beef that Rena tries not to smell. Arashi murmurs thanks.</p><p>No single dish here looks like it took the restaurant more than ten minutes start to finish, except maybe that rice, but there's a lot of it: cheeses and deli meats, cocktail shrimp, both green and fruit salads, pitchers of ice water and a carafe of steaming coffee. The breads and sweets have supermarket labels still, the tea is mostly unbrewed though the electric kettle is heating again, and the sports drinks are mostly still in their case, and it certainly wasn't the hotel staff who provided the plastic container labeled <i>kung pao chicken</i> in Marinette's handwriting. Rena threads their arm through the duffel handles so they can grab two chocolate-covered strawberries on the way past.</p><p>"Sleeping bags?" repeats Arashi, following Rena into Chloé's bedroom with her beef bowl.</p><p>They are not going to snap at someone Chat Noir trusts enough to hand a Miraculous to. They are <em>not</em>. "Sleepover," Rena answers, and bites off one of the strawberries. Someone's set up Chloé's folding screen to block off part of the bathroom, though not the toilet alcove nor the sink. "Chat Noir?"</p><p>"…We're in a hotel." Arashi sounds perplexed. "We don't—"</p><p>"Back here," Chat says. (Arashi falls silent, but Rena knows exactly where she was going with that: <i>it's nice that you tried to help, but you made it worse</i>, just like Alya's been doing all along with investigating anything and everything Miraculous for the Ladyblog. Rena still plans to sleep as close to Marinette as Marinette will allow, and won't assume that's the same bed.) "Watch your step."</p><p>Rena braces themself for the potential system shock of learning Chat Noir's secret identity, then scoots the folding screen out a bit from the sink and (they see when they eel around the screen) the dresser. (Lila's other earring is on top; they pocket that so the pair will stay together.) They are not going to ask why he decided to smash Chloé's potted—</p><p>"—Holy <em>fuck</em> that's a lot of blood." Surprise heavy flow would explain the color of Marinette's capris, tossed in the alcove corner next to Chat's bag, but not her blazer or blouse or bra.</p><p>Chat Noir barely glances at them. "You think?" He dunks the reddened washcloth he's holding in the bathtub Marinette's sitting slumped on the side of, black hoodie clutched to her chest, and wrings it out. "Pain meds?"</p><p>"Uh." Rena digs through the first aid kit. In the other room, they hear Carapace start coughing. "Paracetamol? Ibuprofen? Nice crop top," they add, consciously angling the last sentence like a joke.</p><p>He snorts, which is enough to tell Rena they shouldn't have bothered. "She wouldn't open her eyes till I had a mask on, she wanted one for herself too, and Plagg's been through enough tonight. And since now I know how the unmasked Ladybug feels about the unmasked Chat Noir, I'm okay with that." Marinette stops poking at the phone sitting on the tub wall beside her; the phone on Chat's knee sings out an ascending series of notes. "Ibuprofen," he says, dismissing the text notification, and turns to grab a pink sports bottle.</p><p>"—Your back!" exclaims Rena, staring. Most of the bleeding has stopped. Most of the blood has been cleaned off. <em>Most</em>. "What <em>happened</em>?"</p><p>Chat glares up at them with human-round green eyes through a black cloth mask, damp over his half-dried golden hair: the mask looks ragged and hurriedly made, like the one they now notice Marinette has on (both somehow secured without a knot), and Rena bets the inside-out black tee Chat is wearing wasn't a crop top this afternoon. "Well, it looks like someone sliced her back open," he spits. "Maybe, I don't know, <em>someone sliced her back open</em>."</p><p>"For the fifth time, kitten," Plagg says, whizzing in with a little plate of what smells like sliced turkey and possibly sharp cheddar.</p><p>"Whatever." Chat rolls frustratedly to his feet, snags a piece of turkey, and gestures Rena to take his place. "Pain meds. Bathing. Clean clothes."</p><p>"My clothes are too big, but I got safety pins," Rena tells Marinette, as Chat takes the duffel from their arm and rifles through it. "Also a several-pack of panties—I'm pretty sure they're the right size—and disposable menstrual pads." It's one thing to loan anyone clothing, another to loan them underthings, even if Marinette <em>did</em> make all Alya's reusable pads in a fit of fury at the pink tax, and no matter how thoroughly laundered the underthings have been.</p><p>"Oh good," Chat says through his mouthful. "I'll pay you back."</p><p>"No you won't," Rena says, looking around for soap. They've failed Ladybug—they've failed <em>Marinette</em>—in so many ways now that that handful of euro is literally the least they can do to make amends.</p><p>Plagg flies back in with three tablets of what might be ibuprofen. (Weird that Rena didn't hear the bottle click open.) "Yeah he will," he says, dropping the tablets into Marinette's open mouth, then darts over to fetch her the sports bottle. "Question is, will he sneak fifty euro into your pocket when you're not looking, or will you let him give you exact change?"</p><p>"Both," Chat says. "Both is good."</p><p>Marinette chokes on her drink.</p><p>Chat tenses; Marinette swallows, coughs, gives a thumbs-up; Chat relaxes. "Well, if you don't need me anymore," he says, typing something on his phone and turning away.</p><p>Marinette growls.</p><p>He exhales. "Bug, please. Let Rena take care of you."</p><p>Rena's flute signals a text. They project their screen to where they can read it and Marinette can't, while Rena, mindful of the boy sitting against the far side of the alcove wall, tries to figure out what to do next:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Chat Noir:</i> she wouldn't let arashi or carapace near enough</p>
  <p><i>Chat Noir:</i> queen bee hasn't been in yet but</p>
</blockquote><p>He can't see anything but the folding screen and his phone screen, Rena figures. They reach for the hoodie Marinette's holding, because that and her bloody panties need to be somewhere else while she's bathing.</p><p>Marinette flinches away.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Chat Noir:</i> and if things go bad enough we need bunnyx anywhere but here</p>
  <p><i>Chat Noir:</i> please just get her clean and bandaged and dressed</p>
  <p><i>Chat Noir:</i> please</p>
  <p><i>Rena Rouge:</i> she doesn't seem to want me to</p>
  <p><i>Rena Rouge:</i> why haven't you?</p>
  <p><i>Chat Noir:</i> look when i was dreaming about getting to see her shirtless this is NOT WHAT I MEANT</p>
  <p><i>Chat Noir:</i> and even if upsetting her right now wasn't scary dangerous for everybody</p>
  <p><i>Chat Noir:</i> i don't want to hurt her anymore</p>
</blockquote><p>…oh.</p><p>Oh.</p><p>"Hey, Marinette," Rena says conversationally.</p><p>Marinette stiffens.</p><p>"—Shit, sorry!" Why would her <em>name</em> be a hot button? She knows Alya saw Ladybug's bare face on the rooftop before it occurred to Marinette to cut up Chat Noir's shirt for new masks. "Sorry, Ladybug!" —Doesn't she? Calm, Rena needs to be <em>calm</em>. "Sounds like you want your partner to stay in the room. Thing is he thinks he's already gotten you more naked than you're happy with."</p><p>Which…is probably <em>true</em>. Alya's theory this afternoon was Ladybug and Chat Noir—terminale students at the <em>absolute</em> youngest, and they wonder now why they thought Ladybug and Chat Noir are at least Luka's age—Ladybug and Chat Noir have been dating for months and trying to keep it quiet, and unless one or the other is asexual or sex-repulsed or something then they have probably been fucking for a while too. But Luka's the only person Alya knows of whose romantic interest Marinette <em>hasn't</em> ignored or gently redirected because of Adrien. (Luka also hasn't asked Marinette out yet.) And Chat Noir had them all looking for Marinette much of the evening, not for Ladybug, not for Firebug—a cruel wild goose chase if he already knew.</p><p>"So I think he'd like to go to another room," Rena says. "To make you more comfortable."</p><p>Marinette taps at her phone; a moment later, Chat's sings out. "She says text her," Chat says. "I guess her civilian phone doesn't have your superhero contact anymore."</p><p>Anymore?</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Rena Rouge:</i> I owe you so many apologies</p>
  <p><i>Marinette</i> <span>🧵</span><i>:</i> <span>🤫</span></p>
</blockquote><p>"How worried should I be that you're not saying anything out loud at all?" asks Rena.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Marinette</i> <span>🧵</span><i>:</i> don't let him leave he's scaring me</p>
</blockquote><p>Lowercase letters and minimal punctuation. Alya texts like that as a matter of course, but if Rena weren't worried about Marinette already, they would be worrying now.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Marinette</i> <span>🧵</span><i>:</i> no puns</p>
  <p><i>Marinette</i> <span>🧵</span><i>:</i> no flirts</p>
  <p><i>Marinette</i> <span>🧵</span><i>:</i> scared</p>
</blockquote><p>"Plagg said not very," Chat Noir says as those texts arrive. "Or that's not the problem, at least. She's borrowing processing power from vocal stuff to deal with emotional stuff, or something."</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Marinette</i> <span>🧵</span><i>:</i> he needs to keep it together</p>
  <p><i>Marinette</i> <span>🧵</span><i>:</i> he will if he thinks i need him to</p>
</blockquote>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Chat Noir:</i> at least she IS answering</p>
</blockquote><p>"Right," Rena says to both conversations. "Chat Noir, she's going to be more hurt if—"</p><p>A phone rings, a sequence of bells. Chat sticks his arm around the alcove wall, holding up one finger. "Hello?"</p><p>"Chat Noir?" asks—is that Bunnyx, maybe? "This is Alix Kubdel; you're on speaker." Oh. Never mind. "How's our fearless leader doing?"</p><p>He sighs. "Better than a bit ago. Better than that if she hears you and everyone at the Couffaines' are doing okay. Not nearly good enough it seems safe to try to figure out what happened and what her plan is."</p><p>"We're fine," Alix says. "Grand Paris sent a runner with a bunch of finger foods. So we can't talk about it because she might get reakumatized?"</p><p>"Exactly." Chat's voice is heavy. "The butterfly doesn't have to come back for the same object the second time. Stoneheart proved that. And I haven't checked but—"</p><p>"Seven people turned into Firebug statues," interrupts Ivan. "That people have told the Ladyblog about."</p><p>(Rena Rouge should check that at some point. It is, after all, their own damn blog.)</p><p>(Some journalist Alya is.)</p><p>"Is she listening," asks Mylène, "or can she be listening, or should we call back when she's awake?"</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Marinette</i> <span>🧵</span><i>:</i> <span>👍🏻 👂🏻</span></p>
</blockquote><p>That's to both of them. "She's right here," Chat says. "You're on speaker."</p><p>Mylène's voice is much clearer when she says, "Ladybug, I'm told Horrificator was an absolute sweetheart for Ivan. Is it okay if he and I join you?"</p><p>"You don't have to do that," Chat Noir protests at once.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Marinette</i> <span>🧵</span><i>:</i> ok</p>
</blockquote><p>"She says come on over," Rena interprets. "We're at Chloé's."</p><p>"We'll be right there!" Mylène sounds brighter. Rena hears the end-call click.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Marinette</i> <span>🧵</span><i>:</i> idk y</p>
</blockquote><p>"What do you mean 'I don't know why'," mutters Chat Noir. "I don't know why you won't let me leave so Rena can take care of you."</p><p>Rena rolls her eyes. "Because you're an idiot."</p><p>Everyone they <em>know</em> is an idiot over matters of the heart. This might be the actual worst time to mention Adrien in Marinette's hearing, and Chat Noir has been open enough about his affections that Rena really doesn't want to mention Ladybug's crush in <em>his</em> hearing. But half the reason Alya keeps pushing Marinette to <em>tell</em> him is Adrien's clearly hopelessly in love with her: with only Gabriel Fucking Agreste by way of example and with Ladybug right there to be starry-eyed over, it's no surprise Adrien has no idea. And half the reason Alya's been shipping Ladynoir all along is Ladybug is <em>so</em> clearly, obliviously—hopelessly—</p><p>—in love with—</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Marinette</i> <span>🧵</span><i>:</i> my idiot</p>
</blockquote><p>—oh shit.</p><p>"She'll be more hurt if you leave her right now," Rena tells him, staring at this text he cannot see. It's the only thing they can say.</p><p>"If you say so," mumbles Chat Noir; Rena isn't sure which of them he's answering. But he gets up and comes back into the alcove. "Give me my hoodie?"</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Marinette</i> <span>🧵</span><i>:</i> rena shoo</p>
</blockquote><p>Rena repurposes the stool to set out the antibiotic ointment and bandages on, then sneaks out of the bathroom.</p><p>Arashi is sitting on one of the armchairs, typing something on her sword-phone screen, when Rena returns to the living room area. Rena sets their plateful of what looks like cauliflower au gratin (several more dishes have joined the quick foods, including a bowl labeled <i>cricket hummus</i> and a plate labeled <i>cricket crêpes</i>) on the coffee table next to the assortment of Alya's DVDs someone's taken out of the bag and stacked neatly, then sits down on the sofa with Carapace and flops sideways into his lap.</p><p>"So much for Ladynoir being romance goals," Rena murmurs.</p><p>Carapace strokes her hair, exactly as though Ladynoir still <em>is</em> romance goals, with Rena playing Chat Noir to his own Ladybug. "You should eat," he says.</p><p>Rena can hear Chat Noir murmuring to Marinette, though not clearly enough to make out his words over the quiet splashing. She isn't answering aloud; she might not have said a single word out loud since they finished filming their message to Paris an hour ago. "I'm not hungry."</p><p>Moments after Chloé's butler (and Rena resolves to ask his actual name) lets Mylène and Ivan (the latter wearing what looks like a surgical mask) into the suite,  Marinette and Chat Noir join them in the living room area, both still damp-haired (his is unevenly parted and looks weirdly short; hers is down, making her look ghostly pale) and wearing the cloth masks over their eyes. Chat has traded his shirt for the totally-not-Ladybug-merch one Nino left at Alya's last time he stayed the night; Rena can <em>see</em> everyone individually note, then decide not to comment on, how tiny Ladybug looks in Alya's green lounge pants and Chat's hoodie, and how fragile she looks leaning on her partner. <a id="return11" name="return11"></a>In green, at least, she looks less like Marinette Bras Chêche.<sup>[<a href="#note11">11</a>]</sup></p><p>"I still think we should sleep now," Chat says, steering them over to the empty sofa, "but she reminded me Hawkmoth's akumatized people while they were asleep before. So we might as well try to work out what next."</p><p>Arashi nods. "I'm reviewing everything Firebug said while I was there."</p><p>Chat lifts a hand. "Hold that thought." He visibly swallows. "I want to say this. That way it's said, and everyone can mock me for being so fatalistic, and then we can go back to figuring out the real plan."</p><p>"That sounds ominous," murmurs Mylène, heading behind Rena's sofa to get to Ivan's armchair with her coffee cup.</p><p>"Yes and no," says Chat Noir. "As it—as it stands—" He swallows again. A lump on Marinette's shoulder leaps into the air: Plagg, moving to touch Chat's cheek. "As it stands, there is no way for Hawkmoth to win. Whatever it is that he can only get by using both our Miraculouses at once, he can't get it unless we fix Ladybug's Miraculous first. We could—we could just…not."</p><p>"That sounds good," Marinette says, startling everyone. She sounds as she did after the Miraculer attack: <i>I'm sorry, Chloé. I should have told you this a long time ago.</i> "Let's do it."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Content notes: dissociation, trauma responses, selective mutism, blood. <sup>[<a href="#creturn06">return</a>]</sup><br/> </p><p><a id="note10" name="note10"></a><i>10:</i> Agyinamoa: 'cat' in Akan. ʻIole Uliuli: 'dark rat' in ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi. Kumbang Merah: 'red beetle' in Malay. <sup>[<a href="#return10">return</a>]</sup></p><p><a id="note11" name="note11"></a><i>11:</i> <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marinette_(Vodou)">Marinette of the Dry Arms</a>. Accuracy of sources unclear (but JSTOR does have a 1944 article that confirms this at least <em>is</em> a figure in Afro-Caribbean mythos). <sup>[<a href="#return11">return</a>]</sup><br/> </p><p>Alternate PoV snippet of the last scene: "<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22807120">knight's token, lady's colors</a>". Admire the illustration by <a href="https://buggachat.tumblr.com"><b>buggachat</b></a>! (<a href="https://buggachat.tumblr.com/post/641063743763234817/commission-for-alexseanchai-taken-from-chapter-6">art post</a>)<br/><a id="random06" name="random06"></a><br/> </p><p>Thank you to everyone with encouraging words and occasional brainstorm help: if you've interacted with me in any of a number of writing communities, I probably mean you <span>😸</span></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. all of the silence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><a id="creturn07" name="creturn07"></a>I was always content<br/>with the scent of<br/>freshly burned bridges<br/>the way they crumbled<br/>ash flaking<br/>dissolving into air<br/>as my mind sang<br/>melodies of destruction<br/>my throat well versed.</p><p>—<i>excerpted from</i> "<a href="https://muccamukk.dreamwidth.org/1255063.html">Arsonist</a>", Arielle Twist, in <a href="https://smile.amazon.com/Disintegrate-Dissociate-Arielle-Twist-ebook/dp/B07YF3WTK7/"><i>Disintegrate/Dissociate</i></a></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mylène's coffee splashes across the rug, the armchair, Ivan's slacks.</p><p>Adrien stares at Marinette, frozen, tasting bile. "You don't mean that," he says when his mouth works again.</p><p>"Yeah, I do."</p><p>"You don't want to do that," Adrien tries. But it was a lie when he said it to Firebug, and he thinks it's a lie now.</p><p>"Yes," Marinette says, twisting out of his lax hold. "I do."</p><p>She doesn't look at him. She doesn't look at anyone: Plagg is hovering in front of her face and she turns her eyes away.</p><p>"I'll leave," she says. "First train to London in the morning. Or Venice, or Madrid, or—it doesn't matter. He can't reakumatize me if he can't find me." The phone she's turning over in her hands lights up with a silent notification, unheeded. "Chat, I want you and Plagg to come with me. And I want the rest of the Miraculouses out of Paris, if not the rest of you wielders, but you can all do what you like," she says, voice still dull and matter-of-fact. "I don't know if it will matter. I think I've been trying to find him harder than anyone else has because I'm who gets stuck making sure nothing he does has consequences."</p><p>Pauline Leclair told Chat Noir once she's terrified of not being a perfect parent. She's raising her son alone half a country from where he was born, because his father turned out to be the sort of person who hits children when angry, and those aren't shoes she wants her child to fill. If August, who is not even two years old yet—August, who has never lived in a Paris without Hawkmoth—grows up <em>knowing</em> that if he gets upset enough, he can reliably become much bigger and much stronger and <em>much scarier</em>—or get a magical friend like that, who listens to him alone—</p><p>"They can't charge him with the murders of anyone who's alive anyway," Marinette says, her shoulders beginning to sag. "They'll start looking harder now."</p><p>Ondine Lacroix told Chat Noir once she used to want to swim in the Olympics for France. She refuses to give up swimming—she refuses to let Hawkmoth steal that joy from her—but she can't always swim if anyone else is in the pool. She watched the aerial news footage of her own akumatization, and she knows there were bodies in the water.</p><p>"Maybe once he knows that won't get him my earrings, he'll stop akumatizing anyone."</p><p>Nino told Adrien once why his red baseball cap is so important to him: it was his brother Enzo's, and it was less important when Adrien met Nino than it was a month later. Because Nino and his big brother used to blow bubbles together, and now Nino can't blow bubbles at all.</p><p>"Tell Paris Ladybug's dead," Marinette tells them. The nearer corner of her mouth twists up to match the cheer she paints onto her tone. "One last lie."</p><p>Rena Rouge is staring open-mouthed, one hand pressed to their breastbone. Carapace is hunching in on himself. Arashi is drawing shaky breaths. Nearer the foyer, Mylène is swallowing repeatedly, her hands over her mouth; Ivan's holding her close, his coffee-stained slacks leg rolled up and his damp washcloth forgotten on the floor.</p><p>"So we're giving up," Adrien says, scooping Plagg out of the air. His voice doesn't sound like his own.</p><p>They're not. He's <em>not</em>. They <em>can't</em> be.</p><p>But—</p><p>Backup plans. Ladybug is all about backup plans. She usually invents them as she goes, which he's no good at—Ladybug could work solo, and Marinette <em>does</em>; Adrien is so much better a pianist when playing keyboard for Kitty Section than playing alone to an empty room, and Chat Noir can't be anything but the less important duettist and he likes it that way—so Adrien will front-load that part of the job.</p><p>He slumps back against the sofa, fumbling his phone back out of his pocket. As Chat Noir, he dials Luka. "Favor to ask," he says, drumming his other hand in off-kilter rhythms on his knee. "Mylène volunteered to throw herself on the grenade if that butterfly comes back, but she's not looking so good right now. I thought—since Silencer didn't hurt anyone—"</p><p>"I duct-taped M. Roth to a chair," Luka tells him. "As well as whatever I did that Ladybug undid." (It occurs to Adrien that he's never heard Luka sound sad before.) "He was complaining later about having bald wrists. Have you ever gotten any body hair waxed?"</p><p>"Yes, but I didn't want to tell Roth that," Adrien says over Luka's "It <em>hurts</em>!" (Chat Noir has a very convincing innocent face. And Ladybug could have kept the tape to Roth's sleeves, and she chose not to.) "I figured if he'd annoyed my lady that badly, he deserved it. Who told you Silencer did that anyway?"</p><p>Marinette is flinching; Adrien is suddenly no longer curious.</p><p>"Look, you don't have to," he tells Luka. "I don't think <em>anyone</em> would volunteer to be akumatized, and no one will blame you if you don't. I can list other akumas by harm done and make more calls, and—" He looks pointedly toward Mylène and Ivan. "—Mylène gets bragging rights forever no matter what."</p><p>Mylène gives Adrien a weak smile.</p><p>"But when that butterfly comes back," Adrien continues, trying to decide whether either Marinette or Plagg would appreciate his moving his ball of kwami from his knee to hers, "we would all <em>much</em> rather deal with one singular Silencer than a whole army of Firebugs."</p><p>Marinette swallows. "If."</p><p>Unless she's planning to leave on the 7h train without contacting or even thinking of her parents—because she doesn't <em>know</em> yet—and everyone else is planning to let her, then Adrien doesn't think that's an option. "If you say so."</p><p>"Okay," says Luka. "I'm on my way. But maybe you should call the next person on your list too, just in case. Juleka and Rose want to come along," he adds. "If that helps."</p><p>Adrien glances at Marinette. "Want a bigger slumber party?"</p><p>She hides her face in her hands. "Why not. Let's have the whole class witness my humiliation."</p><p>Her—what?</p><p>Never mind. "Whoever from Juleka's class wants to come hang out with us at Chloé's can," Adrien decides. This is about to become a three-ring flying circus, he still doesn't know why <em>he's</em> the ringmaster, and he may have to spend half the night on the balcony where the noise isn't, but— "And ask Marc Anciel and Aurore Beauréal. Thanks," he adds, and hangs up.</p><p>He can feel Marinette staring as he types furiously.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> you three DO NOT want to come hang out at chloé's</p>
  <p><i>To The Vector:</i> ?</p>
</blockquote><p>"Why are you doing this?" she asks.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> you three want to be together and ELSEWHERE</p>
</blockquote><p>Marinette asks again, "Why are you doing this to me?"</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>False Start:</i> huh?</p>
  <p><i>Skate or Die:</i> Why?</p>
</blockquote><p>How is he going to say this?</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> it's bananas enough without your help, kim</p>
</blockquote><p>"I'm thinking about the Ladybug I first met," says Adrien.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> max, i know you're not a one-trick pony</p>
</blockquote><p>"The one who introduced herself to Hawkmoth by telling him to cut the victim-blaming bullshit and kiss our ass."</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> not playing that ace yet, alix, but this is not the bunny slopes</p>
</blockquote><p>"I'm thinking she wouldn't forgive me for letting you quit."</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Skate or Die:</i> Got it.</p>
</blockquote><p>When Marinette doesn't say anything for a long moment—Rena Rouge and Carapace, Adrien notices, are having a furious whispered argument; Arashi is busy on her sword-phone; Ivan's trying to mop up the spilled coffee with a used bath towel, and he hears Mylène's stocking feet in the foyer—Chat Noir calls Nathaniel with the same question he asked Luka.</p><p>"Ladybug said Marinette volunteered as bait," Nathaniel says. "Did something change?"</p><p>"Yes, no, maybe so?" Who knows? Not Adrien.</p><p>"Does that mean she got anxious about it?" asks Marc. "Tell her she can pretend I got her like I got you, Chat Noir. Reverser, I mean."</p><p>"Why would that help?" Adrien asks, confused.</p><p>"Marc thinks that way Marinette can blame her, not herself," says Nathaniel. (Adrien notes today's pronouns.) "It helps me, sometimes. It might not help her, but it might."</p><p>Well, when put like that. "I'll tell her." The door to the corridor snicks open; probably someone bringing more food, or come to clean up the broken flowerpot. Adrien ignores it. "Yes or no on coming here, though? Because if you get the butterfly, Nathaniel, we can probably keep Evillustrator happy indefinitely just by throwing your girlfriend at you."</p><p>"You're at Chloé's," Nathaniel points out. "I'm not convinced."</p><p>"Evillustrator lost interest in Chloé the minute she got out of line of sight," Adrien reminds him. "And didn't hurt anyone else until you noticed me and figured out Ladybug had Marinette playing distraction. Anyway, if you annoy Chloé, I'm sure Queen Bee will be happy to sting you."</p><p>"No I won't," grumbles Chloé from the foyer. "Pollen, look, baklava. Chat Noir, I thought your plan was to dump Ladybug in my bed and sit on her till she fell asleep?"</p><p>"Tempting, but no." Somehow he doesn't think putting pressure on Marinette's injuries and then moving around—which he <em>would</em>, either from fidgeting or from restless sleep—is a great idea. "Where've you been?"</p><p>"You haven't checked the Ladyblog since you and Ladybug submitted that, have you?" asks Nathaniel.</p><p>"We'll be there," Marc adds, and the call clicks off.</p><p>"I suppose you're all ignoring everything outside this suite," Chloé says, tired and unsurprised. "That works. We think most of the displacees are here and most of the rest who aren't in hospital found nearby friends or family to stay with. I don't have a casualty count, but I know some of who haven't checked—"</p><p>"<em>Stop</em>."</p><p>Marinette's voice is cracking.</p><p>"I can't get upset right now," she says, hugging her knees to her chest and shivering. She's ironing all the emotion from her tone—no, not ironing; that suggests heat, and that the pressure comes from her. Adrien edges closer. "I can't," she repeats. "So—so don't say any of the fires were the east corner of Place des Vosges. Don't tell me no one's found my parents. Don't let me <em>know</em>."</p><p>No one says anything. Adrien drapes his arm over the back of the sofa behind her, leaving him wide open to lean on. Marinette glances over, then looks away.</p><p>Chloé leans into the living area: "—Oh. There are more of us. Are you all going to sleep here? Because we aren't quite out of empty rooms downstairs, but we might be out of cots, and I'm not sure about blankets."</p><p>"Rena Rouge brought sleeping bags," Arashi says, glancing up from her screen, and goes faintly pink at Chloé's relieved smile.</p><p>"…Do I have to worry about mirror-universe doppelgängers now?" Adrien asks Chloé, as Rena and Carapace glance at each other and get up. The two of them head for the large suitcase that must, if Rena brought it, belong to one or another Césaire; Chloé glares at him and vanishes into the foyer. "Or like Reverser," Adrien continues to Marinette, then relays what Marc and Nathaniel said; she snorts and doesn't answer.</p><p>He sees Chloé's arm move in time to brace for it; a cocktail shrimp hits him in the side of the head. "Nice aim," Adrien tells her, tossing it onto a clear part of the coffee table.</p><p>"…five-second rule?" Marinette asks slowly.</p><p>"Sorry, did you want that?" He hopes so; even with Plagg's help, she's eaten maybe four bites since they got here. "Plagg, could—"</p><p>Plagg cracks one eye open. "Kitten. I am trying to get my partner's opinion on all this. That is hard enough when we're fifteen centimeters apart on the same metaphysical plane and can use our words. Since we're <em>not</em>, imagine trying to talk strategy with this one—" He jerks his head at Marinette. "—when all you've got is an emoji keyboard each."</p><p>Adrien winces, thinking about Silencer. He's been trying to get fluent in French Sign Language since, but he keeps not catching subtleties that would be excellent wordplay material if he grasped them right.</p><p>"And half the emojis get lost on the way," Plagg continues, "and half turn into the same swearing face you already sent twelve of, and if you're <em>really</em> lucky those are mostly the same half. Make someone else wait tables." Plagg closes his eyes again.</p><p>"…Sorry, Plagg," says Adrien.</p><p>"Sorry, Plagg," Marinette repeats. She fiddles with her phone, screen angled so Adrien can't see it. "Have you eaten, chaton?"</p><p>"More than you have." About five bites in all. He's had a few other things on his mind. "But I'm bigger. Kilocalories to kilograms, it probably shakes out the same."</p><p>"Eat."</p><p>He needs to. He knows he needs to. But so does she. "I'm not hungry," Adrien lies.</p><p>"<em>Eat</em>, Chat Noir," Marinette repeats, tone just sharp enough to dizzy him with relief.</p><p><i>Calm</i> is one thing. <em>Defeated</em> is another. <em>Sharp</em> is a weapon in her hand, and a weapon in her hand means <em>not defeated</em>. "Make me."</p><p>She jams her thumb on her phone screen; the ascending notes of the text-from-her alert play from his. "Do you think I was joking about force-feeding you?"</p><p>" 'Course not. You never joke." Another lie. He glances at his phone:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Buguinette:</i> Plagg tell Tikki <span>🎰🥰🐞🍪🤐</span></p>
</blockquote><p>Whatever that means. "But you'd have to go through with the rest of it," Adrien continues without pause. "Which I don't think you <em>can</em>."</p><p>Marinette glares up at him: <em>looks</em> at him for the first time since he burned her earrings off her ears. "Chat Noir, I can kick your ass any day and twice on Sundays."</p><p>"You can <em>try</em>." Adrien scoops Plagg over to the arm rest, leaving his phone with him, and swings himself off the sofa, grinning down at her: a bit too false, a bit too bright, but she's pulling <em>away</em> from him, from them, from everyone—</p><p>She's—she's tiny. It's easy to forget that when Marinette is radiating courage and cheer; it's hard to remember when Ladybug is dazzling everyone with her creativity and her superlative heart. Now, when she puts both hands on his chest and pushes him back toward the foyer—now she's only life-sized.</p><p>Marinette plants her feet better and <em>shoves</em>. Adrien sways backward this time—Marinette has always been stronger than she looks; so has he been, since meeting Plagg—but goes nowhere. "Good try," he tells her, smiling, like Adrien always encourages Marinette. "Give it another go."</p><p>—Her breath hitches. <em>Fuck</em>—of course 'how Adrien always encourages Marinette' wouldn't work; when has it ever? Even coming from Chat Noir, why would it work? "Just—just go eat," she says, dropping her gaze to her hands without lifting her fingers from his hammering heart.</p><p>"Still not—" His stomach growls, proving him a liar. "—unless you make me," he challenges instead.</p><p>Snarling, Marinette hooks one foot around his ankle, but Arashi pulled that on him once tonight and he won't fall for it again: she unbalances herself instead—rolls unsteadily to her feet and lunges: he gives ground toward the foyer; she doesn't follow, her eyes glimmering with tears. "Chat, <em>why</em>?" she demands. "Do you <em>like</em> being in pain?"</p><p>"Ooh, kinky," Adrien answers on autopilot. Then rethinks. "I told you, princess, I'm more worried about you, and I'll be okay when you are."</p><p>"I'm not your princess," Marinette spits, "and good <em>luck</em> with that."</p><p>"My lady," Adrien corrects, taking a step closer.</p><p>"I'm <em>not</em>!" She sets herself and charges—he steps back, he dodges, he retreats—she pins him, winded but clearheaded, to the foyer floor. "I'm not," she repeats, breathless, and desperate for—what? "I can't be."</p><p>"Right," Adrien says. They've been—they <em>haven't</em> been here before, that he remembers, not quite: Chat Noir is usually shielding Ladybug; sometimes Adrien sheltering Marinette, but not face to face—he can't think about that now. Her knees are on either side of his hips, her hands on his wrists: there's nothing but slight discomfort to stop him from wrapping his calves over hers to keep her there. "Anything you say, Buguinette."</p><p>"<em>Stop</em>!"</p><p>"Nope, don't think so," says Adrien, with a grin that is still too bright. "I have something like twenty centimeters, fifteen kilograms, and ten years of being a jock on you, LB. You are not going to win this this way. I don't even need my armor."</p><p>Marinette's eyes dart to his right hand; she swallows, elbows wobbling, and focuses on his collarbone, where his bell should be.</p><p>"Ladynoire would have no trouble," Adrien muses. "Check with Plagg before you go there, though."</p><p>"I will <em>not</em>! I don't <em>want</em> Plagg!" ("<em>Hey</em>!" screeches Plagg.) "<em>You're</em> Plagg's! I'm <em>Tikki's</em>!"</p><p>She's on the verge of hyperventilating and he doesn't know what to <em>do</em>. Except speak calmly and like there's <em>hope</em>. "I think dinner is a bit more urgent than fixing the earrings."</p><p>(Adrien has no idea where to begin figuring out how they even <em>can</em>. That's not the point.)</p><p>"I'm Tikki's!" Marinette repeats. "<em>I'm</em> Tikki's, and I <em>lost</em> her!"</p><p>"No, that one's on me." Her grip on his wrists is slipping; he frees his left hand to brace her shoulder. "We'll fix this. We <em>will</em>. But first we need to eat."</p><p>She glares down at him. "So eat."</p><p>"You first."</p><p>"I don't want to."</p><p>"So? I won't if you don't, and you can't force me to. Not without a Miraculous, and you said you won't borrow mine. I don't want to force you to do anything, either," Adrien adds. "I figure I'd hurt you trying."</p><p>Nothing and no one gets to hurt her again. Him least of all.</p><p>He draws a long weary breath, flavored with baked Brie and smoke, and lets it out. "Or we could forget the bondage and discipline games and just both eat. And then sleep. Sleep is good too."</p><p>They breathe.</p><p>"Okay," says Marinette, her voice very small.</p><p>Adrien lets go of her, rolls to his own feet and helps her up, and then notices their audience: there are several more people in the suite than he thought there were. He growls, "What are <em>you</em> all looking at?"</p><p>"…Ladybug?" asks Marc. "Chat Noir?"</p><p>"Guilty." Even with as thick as her borrowed hoodie is, Adrien can't pull her close like he wants to without putting undue pressure on her injury; he settles for a light hand at the small of her back, and sharp glances at their classmates that shouldn't quite say <i>get lost</i>. Some hear it anyway; good.</p><p>Marinette looks at her toes. "Not anymore."</p><p>"I do not know what you mean by that," Adrien tells her with a gentle push toward the food table, "and I do not want to."</p><p>"I don't believe you," she mutters, stumbling forward: she catches herself on the edge of the table almost before Adrien catches her—not Marinette's usual clumsiness, or they'd both be on the floor again, covered in food. He reaches around her to snag a plate and knife, a cricket crêpe, some chocolate-covered strawberries to slice; between the table and his body, she can't fall far. "Maybe you can fix the earrings," she says. "Probably you can't. Doesn't matter."</p><p>Why wouldn't it matter?</p><p>"…Marinette," says Nathaniel; Adrien, trying not to cut his fingers and bleed on the de-chocolated strawberries, can't look up to read his face. "Why do you think it doesn't matter?"</p><p>"Because she called me Ladybug," Marinette tells Adrien's juice-sticky hands. "Marc did. Just now. And you just called me Marinette."</p><p>"You—don't think that means you can't," says Luka slowly.</p><p>"Of course it means I can't!" Her voice is flattening again. "No one is supposed to know! No one can—no one will—"</p><p>Luka steps closer; Marinette starts shaking; Adrien doesn't know whether to tell him to come hold her or to get out of sight. "So why did Viperion get a second chance?" Luka asks, extra gentle.</p><p>"I've been wondering that," Adrien says to the crêpe he's folding around the sliced strawberries and chocolate shards. "Not because <em>Viperion</em> did anything wrong, you understand. I've also been wondering why Multimouse <em>didn't</em>."</p><p>"You know the answer to that, Chat Noir," murmurs Marinette.</p><p>Adrien thinks about shoving the whole bundle of berries and bug protein in her mouth. "Yes," he says with as much patience as he can, "I have caught on to the scam you ran that day. Again. Turns out I was right the first time," he continues, wiggling the crêpe in front of her face. "It <em>was</em> safe to lend Multimouse my ring because Multimouse <em>was</em> Ladybug telling me lies."</p><p>Marinette snorts, derisive and disgusted.</p><p>"Eat," he reminds her.</p><p>"You first."</p><p>"Take the crêpe so I have free hands." She does. Adrien moves around her to reach for what looks like puff pastries and smells like baked brie. "You might as well start eating. And I don't know why you'd think I'd trust Plagg's well-being to anyone but me or you." He considers. "Or Master Runs-Away-From-All-His-Problems, I suppose."</p><p>"That's not fair," Marinette mutters.</p><p>"Isn't it?" Not important. "And then Ladybug-you turned up next to Multimouse-you and I thought, oh, okay, two of the best people I know aren't the same person after all, but at least they appreciate each other. I was hoping they'd be friends."</p><p>Adrien swallows back his blush; the <em>last</em> thing he needs right now is her suspecting anything about his subsequent daydreams about their mutual appreciation. She doesn't want him, either of him, so he can't remind her he does want her; she isn't looking at him, but other people are, and might talk.</p><p>"And that explained why I didn't see Trixx," Adrien continues. "I figured Mirage to make Fox-you look like Ladybug-you before you went to get Marinette." Which means <em>both</em> the Ladybug and the Multimouse-then-Marinette who had that conversation about how untrustworthy Marinette is for letting Chat Noir know she's Multimouse—that means they were both illusions, doesn't it?</p><p>Which means—since the Lucky Charm must have been real, and summoned only moments after a Minimouse-sized Cataclysm destroyed the kwami containment unit and freed the akuma, moments before she returned his ring—</p><p>His heart—like ice. Like ice shattering.</p><p>How long has she been suicidal?</p>
<hr/><p>Chat Noir slides to the floor, breathing raggedly. Rena can hear how his jeans rumple before they can see him—before they see Marinette gaping down at him, upright only because she has the table to cling to; before they see everyone crowd around them to help them, driving Chat Noir to fold inward, twisting at his ring, and sending Marinette's expression into blank fear—</p><p>Head count says this suite currently contains fewer people than their class roster. Well, every one of them is more mature and cooperative than either of the twins, and Alya is not actually deputy class representative for nothing. Rena makes their flute-phone let out an attention-getting whistle: "<em>Clear the area, people!</em>" they shout. "Give them room to breathe!" Um. What else? "Mylène and Ivan, Luka and Juleka, Nathaniel and Marc, rock-paper-scissors or something for which pair gets to stay in the foyer. The rest of you, living room. <em>March</em>!"</p><p>The room clears with gratifying swiftness.</p><p>"Thanks, Rena," Chat Noir murmurs, and it almost sounds unforced, almost unafraid. "Get my phone?"</p><p>"I got it," says Plagg, zooming out of the living area with Chat's phone in hand. In paw? Whatever.</p><p>So Multimouse—Marinette wielding the Rat Miraculous? they were <em>at</em> Marinette's when Chat Noir got so annoyed on finding out they didn't <em>have</em> the Rat—Multimouse must have appeared during one of the akuma fights the Ladyblog doesn't have a full account of. She must have done something that seemed tolerably reckless to Chat Noir when he thought that was only one of the last stubborn holdouts among the class racking up the most frequent-butterflier miles, that he would have made her make <em>him</em> do if he'd known it was Ladybug doing it. And something must have happened to her Miraculous for her to show up as superheroic Marinette, not as Ladybug at all.</p><p>Nothing this drastic, but <em>something</em>. Something she since repaired.</p><p>"Plagg," asks Rena, observing Luka swinging his guitar off his shoulders and settling in a corner, "is it <em>possible</em> to fix Ladybug's earrings?"</p><p>Marinette flinches.</p><p>Chat's phone clatters on the floor beside him. "Hug him," Plagg orders Marinette, hovering in front of her nose. "<em>Before</em> he checks out altogether."</p><p>She falls instantly to her knees, throwing her arms around Chat and clinging to him like a lifeline—though if he's hers or she's his, Rena can't tell. Both, maybe. Chat turns just enough to bury his head in Marinette's shoulder, both their breathing just audible over Luka's quiet melody.</p><p>Plagg settles in the crevice between them. "Rena Rouge," he says, watching them with Chat Noir's familiar cat-green eyes. "What do you mean by 'fix'?"</p><p>"Uh," says Rena. "Make them work?"</p><p>"Hey, kit," Plagg says to Chat Noir, "tell me to tell Rena the truth."</p><p>Chat Noir shudders. "Plagg, tell Rena the truth," he repeats in too flat a voice.</p><p>Plagg grimaces. "Recreating them might be easier," he says, turning back to Rena. <a id="return12" name="return12"></a>"Fixed might work too, I don't know. I never got a straight answer on what happened the time Ngyì Shiaémuao Cataclysmed Hodàtséi's earring. My kitten was too busy faking her death and running away from all her other half's best friends. And that lady had a <em>lot</em> of friends."<sup>[<a href="#note12">12</a>]</sup> The little cat god yawns. "Friends to enemies to rivals to lovers, 100K slow burn, angst with a happy ending. It worked out."</p><p>Rena stares at him. Then shakes themself. "See, Marinette, this isn't the end of the world." This is by far the closest to armageddon of Marinette's apocalyptic scenarios—of, they abruptly realize, the apocalyptic scenarios Marinette has <em>told Alya about</em>—but a solution <em>exists</em>. "We can still win this. We just don't know how yet."</p><p>"Who's we?" mutters Marinette.</p><p>Chat jerks his head up. "What do you mean '<em>who's we</em>'? Ladybug—"</p><p>"Don't <em>say</em> that! She's gone, Chat Noir! I can't be her anymore!"</p><p>"Because we know your name," Chat says. Marinette nods. Chat says, "Because he told you you'd have to give the Miraculous back if anyone found out."</p><p>"We," says Marinette, sniffling. "We'd have to."</p><p>Chat grabs his phone and dials.</p><p>"<i>You have reached Xiáng Chén,</i>" says the voicemail box he reaches. "<i>Please leave a message. I will return your call at my earliest opportunity.</i>" The same voice continues in a different language: Chinese, maybe?</p><p>"I don't know how much attention you're paying," Chat snarls into his phone, "since you skipped town and everything, but you should know she's here about to <em>cry</em> because she thinks you'll make us both <em>quit</em> because I found out something about her you didn't want me to <em>know</em>. Something I've been asking about since the start, in case you were curious. Something I could have learned <em>really easily</em> at several points, and I only didn't because <em>she</em> didn't want me to. Nice of you to put that part in the sales pitch."</p><p>Marinette grabs Chat's wrist. "Let him stay," she begs the listener, and she <em>is</em> crying now, breath catching between phrases. "Let him stay, no one knows his, please, please just—<em>please</em>—"</p><p>"She says, like you get to decide this." Chat sounds only disgusted, now. "I know you remember the night she lost your address. I don't care if you're a hundred and ninety: if you pull that bullshit again, on <em>either</em> of us, I can beat you to death with my bare hands."</p><p>"You won't have bare hands, kit," Plagg says. "Tell him that."</p><p>Chat snorts. "I'm to tell you I won't have bare hands." He hangs up and sags onto Marinette with a sigh. "I vote for not killing him," he mumbles.</p><p>"…you just left him a death threat," Rena says slowly, noting how Luka's melody's changed—something lighter, more soothing. (Who is 'him', anyway? What would 'he' have done when Alya published—) Should they go hug Marinette? Will Chat Noir let her? It's <em>Chat Noir</em>—how can they think of him as, as <em>dangerous</em>?</p><p>Is it only that he still hasn't eaten? Neither of them have, they think, except for the one bite they personally saw Chat Noir take. Rena needs to go pile food on both their plates, and possibly get Carapace to help them physically sit on them both until neither of them is running on <em>empty</em>.</p><p>"<em>He</em> didn't," Plagg says, and yawns, showing tiny gleaming fangs. "<em>I</em> did."</p><p>"Doesn't matter," Marinette says, half sobbing. "Chat Noir, please, when you choose the next coccinelle—"</p><p>"I get to choose my partner?" Chat raises his head and lifts her chin, both their cloth masks askew, and Marinette yelps and tugs his mask back into place. "Great. I choose <em>you</em>."</p><p>"No! Someone new!"</p><p>"I don't <em>want</em> someone new! I want the partner I've <em>got</em>!"</p><p>"Yeah, well, tough luck, kitten!"</p><p>"<em>Hey</em>! That one's Plagg's! You've got all your usual French names, leave him the English ones!"</p><p>(Plagg is curled up on Chat Noir's shoulder, his tail flicked over his eyes. Rena thinks he's who's purring up a storm.)</p><p>"I <em>don't</em> have the French names!" How has the akuma not come back for her yet? Marinette sounds like she's about to <em>break</em>. Or like an emotional dam already has. "You <em>can't</em> have your old partner back! I <em>won't</em>! <em>do it</em>!"</p><p>That stops Chat Noir cold.</p><p>Rena drops the scoop of green salad they're lifting back into the bowl and moves toward Marinette—to do what, they're not even sure—and Chat fixes them with a bone-chilling glare. Rena stops moving.</p><p>Chat takes Marinette by the shoulders and squeezes. (Lightly, Rena thinks, but this is so <em>off</em> for him they don't know if they can <em>know</em> that.) His voice low, he asks, "Why not?"</p><p>His grip does seem to ground her: Marinette puts her hands over his, hesitates, and slides one to his right wrist. "Because I'm done, Chat Noir." She sounds calmer. "She's gone. She's done. She was never real at all."</p><p>"What do you mean by that?" Rena asks.</p><p>Marinette swallows twice, glances at Rena, and meets Chat's eyes. "I mean Marinette is a liar. And Ladybug is a <em>lie</em>."</p>
<hr/><p>Adrien calculated once, on a sleepless night, what the impact force would be if an object of his own mass first met gravitational acceleration starting from the height of the Tour Montparnasse, then met the ground. Over a hundred kilonewtons, it turns out. Enough to pulverize the skeletal structure, if not to break the skin. He texted Nino the answer, saved his shown work in the same folder as the calculations of how much tensile strength Ladybug's yo-yo cord must have in order to beat the shear strength of the Tour Eiffel, and hasn't looked at it since.</p><p>Marinette hates liars.</p><p>400 Bad Request</p><p>Marinette <em>is</em> a liar.</p><p>451 Unavailable</p><p>Ladybug is a <em>lie</em>.</p><p>403 Forbidden</p><p>He's falling again.</p>
<hr/><p>…Rena Rouge is not in charge of this flying circus. Ladybug is. Chat Noir when Ladybug isn't available. Rena Rouge is an illusionist act, at best. Given how Alya has treated Marinette, maybe Rena is just one more warm body in the clown car.</p><p>The stars of this show are staring at each other—Chat Noir blankly enough to scare Plagg into scratching and biting him to get any response at all; Marinette stubbornly, rigidly silent, though she has never before hesitated to hurriedly lie when the <em>other</em> tall blond big-hearted love of her life heard her say something a little too true—and their aerial duet is plummeting toward the flaming wreckage of the circus tent and everything is going to crash and <em>burn</em> and nowhere in this metaphor is there—</p><p>"A net!"</p><p>Luka misses a note. Juleka says, "What?"</p><p>Rena shakes their head. "Juleka, you and Rose have emergency medical training, right?"</p><p>"Yes?" Juleka eyes them, then Marinette and Chat. "Haven't actual EMTs seen them?"</p><p>"Rose!" Rena calls; Rose hurtles into the foyer. "Actual EMTs have only seen them from a distance," Rena tells them. "Chat Noir cleaned up her injuries himself." They gesture Luka in the direction of the bathroom, where the kit still is. "I don't think they'll <em>trust</em> professionals as much as they trust you two."</p><p>The two look at each other.</p><p>"Do you think this is how she felt on day one?" Rose wonders.</p><p>"Probably." Juleka takes the kit from Luka, who goes right back to his guitar. "I'll get him?"</p><p>Rose nods. "Nathaniel!" she shouts toward the living room. "Marc! Since Juleka will be busy," she adds to Luka, getting her phone out and dropping down beside Marinette.</p><p>Juleka's audio recording app is already going. "Seventeen-year-old male," she tells it, sitting opposite Rose. Chat Noir snorts. "Feel free to correct me," Juleka says, as Rose tells her phone Marinette is fifteen, female, and a bunch of technical words. "Was alert and oriented times four a moment ago."</p><p>" 'M sixteen," Chat Noir mutters, to Plagg's very loud relief.</p><p>"Sixteen-year-old male. Definitely alert. I assume nothing's bleeding," Juleka continues, popping open the kit and fishing out the hand sanitizer, "or Marinette would be even more upset."</p><p>"We're trying to avoid that," Rena reminds her. All four of them glance at Rena—Marinette and Chat Noir eerily synchronized, Rose and Juleka each off beat—and return their attention to each other.</p><p>They're…probably going to be okay without Rena supervising. Probably. Right?</p><p>Chat Noir seemed confident Ladybug had a plan, and that she told them everything she could about it. Chat Noir also hasn't paid any attention to figuring out what her plan <em>is</em>. Arashi, though—Arashi said she's going over what Firebug said while Arashi was listening. Rena should probably talk to her?</p><p>Probably.</p><p>"In the morning," Carapace tells her when Rena asks which of the bundles of bedding in the living room is Arashi. (None of those with at least a head sticking out, certainly.) "You're enough fun to deal with after an ordinary all-nighter."</p><p>Rena rolls their eyes. "Yeah, well, at least—"</p><p>There is no way to end that sentence without insulting Marinette for all the work she dared not tell them she was doing in order to <em>save their city</em>.</p><p>"How did we miss this?" Rena asks, letting Carapace pull them down into the little blanket fort he's built against one of the armchairs. "How did—"</p><p>Alya has no way of knowing when Marinette acquired the Ladybug Miraculous. But the absolute latest that could be isn't even three hours after Alya first saw a rich blonde snob and her sidekick bullying the only girl of color in the classroom. Alya has never known Marinette when she <em>wasn't</em> hiding being Ladybug.</p><p>"She's always been flaky," Carapace murmurs. "Didn't really talk unless someone was talking to her. I…" He tugs self-consciously at his hood. "I kind of thought she got confident because of you."</p><p>Rena checks the opacity of the blanket wall. "Let's rest." A burst of orange light, then one of green; Trixx tugs Wayzz off to the food table, and Alya curls up with Nino. His skin is a little too warm still, and smells of smoke and ash, like theirs does—they could both fix this, but someone's in the toilet alcove pissing right now, and anyway at least one of them would have to get up. Luka comes into the living room without pausing his guitar melody. In the foyer, Alya can hear the upturn in Chat Noir's voice when Rose finally persuades Marinette to swallow something, and a moment later, a distinct relieved note in Marinette's when Chat Noir takes a bite.</p><p>"I kind of thought so too," Alya says.</p>
<hr/><p>Adrien isn't slow to wake as a rule. He never has been. He also isn't above lazy Sunday mornings, or at least he isn't anymore—he blames Plagg—and anyway, he's still dreaming. He must be, with Ladybug sprawled half over him like this, where he can feel her breathe and she can hear his heart. Weird that he's not dreaming her into his arms in his own bed—this one is firmer than his own, but it's still clearly <em>a</em> bed (so they haven't passed out on a rooftop or anything, which he would have to wake up and do something about)—but he knows better to apply waking-world logic to any dreams Sandboy didn't kickstart, he really does.</p><p>And it's a <em>good</em> dream. With or without the odor of smoke, half-hidden behind the dissonant notes of honey and almond, cocoa and vanilla and espresso—with or without sounds that might be footsteps, voices, running water—with or without the tense suspicion that the red glow he's seeing is a city on fire, not Ladybug's aura, not simply sunlight through eyelids too heavy to want to open. Ladybug is trusting him to hold her while she sleeps, as deeply as he wishes he believed she always sleeps. He doesn't <em>want</em> to pick the dream apart till he wakes.</p><p>—Her breathing stutters.</p><p>He snaps to full alert. She's really here: not just Ladybug but <em>Marinette</em>, clutching his shoulders—one hand crumpling his shirt sleeve, the other underneath the cotton, hot on his bare skin—and shaking. "Chat Noir," she whispers, almost a sob. "Chat <em>Noir</em>, Chat <em>Noir</em>—ad—a—I'm sorry, I'm sorry, come back, Chat Noir, come back to me—"</p><p>Adrien snatches her into an embrace—she gasps, pained: he remembers seeing blood on his claws, fearing blood on Animan's teeth. Mylène's getting up, he can hear, coming to see what's wrong: he flips a pillow from under his head to over it, holding tighter to Marinette away from the bandages. (<i>Trust me on this,</i> he remembers telling her, his hands on her shoulders.) "Bug," he says low in her ear, half soothing half— "Ladybug! I'm here. I'm right here."</p><p>She seizes up, one heartstopping moment.</p><p>"I'm right here, Bug," Adrien repeats. "I'm not going anywhere. You're dreaming," he adds, wishing he could say <i>it's nothing but a nightmare, it won't be here when you open your eyes</i> and know it's not at all a lie. "I'm right here, Ladybug, wake up—"</p><p>All at once she relaxes. "Chat Noir?"</p><p>"Yeah, it's me." Adrien turns his head underneath the pillow—it's not suffocating; he's not even trapped—and feels how the fabric moves on his skin. "I don't know where my mask went." He's not surprised he lost it overnight; he only wouldn't have if he'd hair-sprayed it to his head, and there are reasons he tries to shower all that sort of crud off before going to sleep. "You see it anywhere?"</p><p>"Mmm." It's a distinctly grumbly tone. "Don't wanna move," Marinette mumbles, curling in closer to him.</p><p>"And I really don't want to make you," Adrien says—dreams coming true left, right, and center here!—"but it's kind of claustrophobic under here?"</p><p>"Oh!" Marinette bolts off him. "Adroit and maladroit, that's us," she says with a high nervous laugh, moving around the mattress.</p><p>Adrien snorts. "Which is which?"</p><p>"You hush." She tugs on the sheets underneath him. "Roll up?"</p><p>He rolls away from her, keeping his face in the pillow. A moment later, she presses the strip of fabric beside one of his ears and pokes near the other. Adrien lifts his head—he will never complain about her touching him, ever, but it's so hard <em>not</em> to read a lover's care into how gently she touches him, light pressure to keep the slitted end of the strip in place while she threads the narrow end through the first and third slits, then back through the second and first.</p><p>"Okay, Chat," she says.</p><p>Adrien rolls upright. "Thanks, Mylène," he tells Mylène's back. "Ivan." (He's seated on the floor with a half-eaten sandwich of what looks like deli turkey on sliced baguette, watching, as Mylène is, for incoming butterflies.) Marinette herself is on her knees beside him, fabric mask pulled tight over her loose hair, breathing in too controlled a way to be calm. "Morning, Marinette. How's your back?"</p><p>She winces. "It's fine," she lies. "It doesn't hurt."</p><p><i>Should I pretend I believe that?</i> Adrien doesn't ask. <i>Ready to talk about last night?</i> Adrien doesn't ask. "You have nightmares about losing me?" Adrien shouldn't ask.</p><p>Chat Noir's worst nightmare, after all, is Ladybug telling him to get lost.</p><p>—was.</p><p>Marinette's eyes narrow in familiar exasperation; she shoves him off the bed.</p><p>—Okay then. He is not pushing <em>that</em>. Yet. Adrien sits back up, nudges Plagg off the pillow on the floor, and starts rolling up the sleeping bag he landed on. "Why'd I get up there with you?" he asks. It's only sort of rhetorical. He knows his plan for last night was this sleeping bag.</p><p>"You were having a nightmare," Marinette explains, flatly enough he decides not to push that either. "Do you think there are new toothbrushes?"</p><p>Adrien tongues the inside of his teeth. Now that she mentions it… "I hope so."</p><p>"I'll ask Chloé," Ivan says, standing.</p><p>Plagg yawns widely, floating up above Adrien. "Are you two idiots going to eat breakfast without getting in another self-sacrificial vicious cycle?" he asks. " 'Cause let me tell you, that shit is painful to watch."</p><p>"I'll eat," Adrien says.</p><p>"…I'll try?"</p><p>"<em>Shiaé pa muao</em>," says Plagg.</p><p>Marinette's breath hitches. "I don't—I—Plagg, come with me?"</p><p>Adrien secures the sloppily rolled sleeping bag, snags the jeans he didn't want to sleep in last night, grimaces at the dirt on the knees and rear and one thigh (he'll be in trouble if Father sees), and watches Marinette and Plagg disappear behind the screen someone's rearranged to block sight lines into the toilet alcove.</p><p>"He broke the moon," he hears Marinette whisper. "He—Plagg, he was so <em>lonely</em>, and—and I don't know what's safe to tell <em>you</em>, even, but—Rose won the bet. She <em>did</em>." He can hear the rattling of a pill bottle in her trembling hand. "I think that's safe. Since you don't know which bet Rose lost. I don't know how that got to—he was hurting so much, Plagg, I—what do I <em>do</em>?"</p><p>"What happened?" Plagg asks.</p><p>"Go ask Alix," Marinette spits, a vicious English whisper, "when she's ten feet tall."</p><p>—But—</p><p>Plagg starts purring. "I've got one idea," he tells her. "And I don't care what you said about this last night."</p><p>Marinette makes a tiny curious sound.</p><p>Plagg says, "I want my partner back."</p><p>Chloé pokes her head into the bedroom, a welcome diversion. (It was just a nightmare. It was only a nightmare.) "Toothbrushes," she says tiredly, waving a couple of unopened multi-packs. "Did you sleep well?"</p><p>"Better than I expected," Adrien says in perfect honesty. He must have been pretty deeply under, since he clearly didn't hear any hotel staff bringing breakfast. "You?"</p><p>Though he hardly needs to ask. Her face being bare of cosmetics says everything.</p><p>"How often have you two said fuck sleep because Paris needs you?" Chloé asks.</p><p>"Sleep is often a valid life choice, Queen Bee!" calls Arashi.</p><p>Chloé pinkens. "In a minute!" she calls back. To Chat Noir she says, "No one's published lists of known casualties or unaccounted-for people yet; the TVi talking heads are arguing over whether it's better to be patient with you and Ladybug or get 'real experts' to take over." Her air quotes are overexaggerated; Adrien snorts, and Chloé nods. "Lucia Rossi with the Italian consulate is calling for all our heads, Mayor Bourgeois hasn't joined her but he kind of wants to, and Gabriel Agreste keeps trying to make the news cycle about Adrien going missing." Adrien tries not to visibly wince. "Which," Chloé continues, stifling a sob, "we're worried about him too, but—but that is <em>not</em> our biggest problem!"</p><p>"We're going to try to fix the Ladybug Miraculous," Adrien tells her, taking the toothbrush packs. "If he stays missing after Miraculous Cure," which Adrien knows perfectly well he won't, "<em>then</em> worry."</p><p>Chloé nods. "Thank you, Chat Noir," she says, and goes to snag a napkin off the food table to blow her nose into.</p><p>Adrien feels better with brushed teeth, washed face, and an espresso; Marinette seems to as well. He notices she takes absolutely nothing that someone could ordinarily buy at Tom &amp; Sabine's, she clearly isn't enjoying a bite, and he has to ask "Are you going to be okay after that much coffee?", but she smiles a little at Plagg's overacted delight in Camembert.</p><p>"I won't actually vomit," Marinette says, eyeing her cup with distaste. "My heart might be able to power Paris for the next week, though."</p><p>He halfway bites back the smile he wants to give her. "I mean, it kind of already does."</p><p>Marinette launches a glob of chocolate-milky cereal at him, swallows one more spoonful herself, and goes to fetch her phone, then snags Adrien by the wrist to join everyone in the living room area. (Everyone seems to have beaten them awake, Adrien notes, stuffing the rest of his croissant in his mouth and mopping the milk off his face and shirt.) Her phone rings, startling out of her hand: "That saves time," she says before accepting the call, and "Hi, Grandpa," briskly after. "I'm—"</p><p>She stops, expression hardening.</p><p>"Who are you," she asks, "and why do you have my grandfather's phone?"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Content notes: dissociation, mental breakdowns. <sup>[<a href="#creturn07">return</a>]</sup><br/> </p><p><a id="note12" name="note12"></a><i>12:</i> Ngyì Shiaémuao: 午夜小貓: Midnight Kitten. Hodàtséi: 花大姐: Ladybug. <sup>[<a href="#return12">return</a>]</sup><br/> </p><p>Many people to thank for keeping my facts straight! Particular thanks to: <a href="https://rathany.dreamwidth.org/profile"></a><a href="https://rathany.dreamwidth.org/"><b>rathany</b></a> &amp; <a href="https://hitokage.dreamwidth.org/profile"></a><a href="https://hitokage.dreamwidth.org/"><b>hitokage</b></a>; <a href="https://forums.nanowrimo.org/u/magnoliamoon/summary"><b>magnoliamoon</b></a>; <a href="https://thisdiscontentedwinter.tumblr.com"><b>thisdiscontentedwinter</b></a>; <a href="https://naye.dreamwidth.org/profile"></a><a href="https://naye.dreamwidth.org/"><b>naye</b></a> <a href="https://naye.dreamwidth.org/2242082.html">and friends</a>; and the very patient <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveradept/profile"></a><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveradept"><b>silveradept</b></a>, who assures me the Internet is for more than just porn. Also: <a href="https://scriptautistic.tumblr.com/"><b>scriptautistic</b></a>, <a href="https://writingwithcolor.tumblr.com"><b>writingwithcolor</b></a>, the creators of <a href="https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=org.ucam.ssb22.wenzhoub">Wenzhou Web &amp; EPUB</a> Android app, and, for <a href="https://donutsweeper.dreamwidth.org/534633.html">these resource lists</a>, <a href="https://donutsweeper.dreamwidth.org/profile"></a><a href="https://donutsweeper.dreamwidth.org/"><b>donutsweeper</b></a>.<a id="random07" name="random07"></a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. my simple, careless plans</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Here only flame upon flame<br/>and black among the red sparks,<br/>streaks of black and light<br/>grown colourless;</p><p>why did you turn back,<br/>that hell should be reinhabited<br/>of myself thus<br/>swept into nothingness?</p><p>—<i>excerpted from</i> "<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/51869/eurydice-56d22fe6d049d">Eurydice</a>", H.D.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a id="creturn08" name="creturn08"></a>Chapter-specific content notes are in the chapter end notes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rena drums their heels on the side of the armchair they're perched on the back of and scrolls again through Arashi's annotated transcript of last night. Here and there comments catch their eye, marked with Rose's familiar stylized pink-and-white-roses user icon or Juleka's new violet-filtered white tiger photo, Mylène's rainbow-print <i>we're here, we're queer, get over it</i> or Max's Morpheus from <i>The Matrix</i> or Marc's Cartwheel Galaxy, Arashi's garnet dragon or Carapace's lime turtle shell or Rena's own tangerine fox tail.</p><p>"This doesn't make sense," they tell Carapace and Arashi for the fifth time since waking. "She blew her secret identity to tell us don't hurt Adrien because of her <em>career</em> ambitions?"</p><p>Arashi says nothing, but then Rena doesn't really need to hear her repeat her earlier replies. (Ladybug chose Rena Rouge and Carapace because Marinette knows Alya and Nino. Chat Noir chose Arashi. Is she someone Ladybug would have chosen?) Arashi's screen jumps to highlight the sentence <i>He was raving about that scarf the whole next day</i>, and then un-highlight without comment.</p><p>Carapace taps Rena's knee and points toward the foyer—toward Marinette, who looks like she only isn't furiously pacing because Chat Noir isn't and she doesn't want to drop his hand. "Who <em>are</em> you," she repeats, furious English that quiets all the hushed French chatter, "and why do you have my grandfather's phone?"</p><p>Rena can't hear anything distinct from the other end of the call.</p><p>"We were expecting to hear from him yesterday evening, and we didn't, and he hasn't answered his phone," snaps Marinette, still in English. "I might worry less, except something went wrong for Ladybug and Chat Noir last night, and Grandpa isn't accounted for yet. Who <em>are you</em>, and <em>why</em> do you have my grandfather's phone?"</p><p>Carapace and Rena Rouge exchange glances. Arashi leans closer to both of them: " 'Grandpa'?" she whispers. "Not Roland Dupain, surely, and no one mentioned Mme. Cheng's parents…?"</p><p>"Marinette's mother's father died years ago," Rena whispers back, watching Marinette's expression flatten and harden, as though carved in bas-relief—as though petrified. "Her mother's mother moved back to China," they add, trying to remember anyone else Marinette might call <i>grandfather</i>—anyone at all.</p><p>Arashi, chewing her lip, nods.</p><p>"Thank—thank you for telling me," Marinette says, almost without tremor, and lets go of Chat Noir's wrist only to pick his pocket. "May I have your name and number, please? I want to ask one of my cousins or friends to come get his phone." She sniffles loudly. "Family photos, you know."</p><p>"I do not like where this is going," Carapace murmurs, watching Chat Noir steer Marinette over to the rapidly-vacated nearest sofa, even as she types furiously on Chat's phone.</p><p>"Let me check this," Marinette says, and rattles off a series of digits, pauses, and nods. "And it's Olivia?" Pause. "I'm sorry for shouting, Olivia," Marinette says. "I'm—everyone here had a rough night. Thank you for your kindness."</p><p>She lets her phone drop to her lap. Her head sags after it.</p><p>"I can't do this," she tells the fuchsia carpet, in French quiet enough Rena can see several classmates straining to hear her. "I don't know why I ever thought I could do this."</p><p>"LB—" begins Chat Noir, pulling Marinette a little closer.</p><p>Marinette shakes him off, though her thigh still presses against his and she doesn't move to change that. "No, that's a lie," she says, a dull monotone. "Tikki told me I should, and I believed her. Alya told me I could, and I believed them. Chat Noir told me I would, and I believed him."</p><p>"Alya told you what?" blurts Rena Rouge. Chat Noir shoots them a sharp look, closing his mouth.</p><p>"I asked why they trusted Ladybug so much," Marinette says, toying with the wrist cuffs of Chat Noir's hoodie, her fingers twisting around the black fabric. "I asked what if Ladybug wasn't cut out for this."</p><p>Oh no. "And then you asked if <em>Alya</em> wanted to be a superhero," Rena Rouge realizes. "You said Alya and Ladybug would be better off without you."</p><p>"—Did you put the earrings in Alya's bag?"</p><p>Rena stares at Juleka. Juleka ducks back behind Mylène.</p><p>"I do not have words," Rena says slowly, "for how fucked we would be if <em>Alya Césaire</em> were Ladybug."</p><p>Carapace squeezes their knee, amber eyes somber, and doesn't argue. Alya and Nino have talked about this, after all. They'd both like to take some of the other Miraculouses out for a spin. But not Ladybug's or Chat Noir's. Not realistically. <i>I'd Cataclysm Gabriel Agreste,</i> Nino said, and Alya asked <i>Does Miraculous Cure <strong>have</strong> to put it all back?</i> and—</p><p>"They'd do great!" protests Mylène. "They'd—"</p><p>Rena glares at her and repeats, biting out each syllable, "I do not have words for how <em>fucked</em> we would be if Alya Césaire were Ladybug."</p><p><em>Let</em> everyone believe Rena Rouge loathes Alya Césaire. It's not even untrue.</p><p>"I do," says Ivan. "Alya didn't know Mylène or me from Adam's off ox. Not then."</p><p>"You don't understand," Marinette says before Ivan or Mylène can elaborate on how Alya would never have thought of anything like how Ladybug defeated Stoneheart at Tour Eiffel. "Lila was on her bullshit all yesterday. I can handle that. I've done it before." Her words are blunt and colorless and forceless. "It wasn't even that bad this time. I didn't see the butterfly till after sunset."</p><p>Chat Noir stiffens. Rena Rouge cannot voice their horror.</p><p>"Adrien didn't mean to lie to me," Marinette continues. "I don't think he even knows he did. It didn't—it shouldn't hurt that much. And that wasn't the first time either."</p><p><i>It didn't hurt</i> and <i>it shouldn't hurt</i> are two very different things. Rena doesn't know how to tell her that.</p><p>"I saw the butterfly," Marinette says. "I transformed to cleanse it. I wasn't fast enough. I didn't fight him. He didn't tell me this would all be over if I gave in."</p><p>Hawkmoth, Alya knows, usually goes for people who are upset over things that might most accurately, however uncharitably, be described as <em>petty</em>. Not people in mourning. Not people on bad drug trips. Not people having bad mental health days—or not, at any rate, people dealing with mental illness Hawkmoth didn't cause.</p><p>"He didn't have to," Marinette says. "I knew if I just didn't fight, everything would be over."</p><p>Rena watches Marinette collapsing inward. How long has Alya been sitting beside Marinette, not seeing the pain their city's hope was in, not hearing their hero crying for help, not noticing their best friend caught in the gravitational pull of despair?</p><p>Quietly enough Rena thinks the words almost didn't make it outside the event horizon, Marinette says, "I just wanted it to be over."</p><p>Chat Noir's hands knead the blue and ash-gray fabric of his jeans. Mylène starts to say something, and hides her face in Ivan's shirt instead.</p><p><i>Ladybug is a true superheroine!</i> Alya remembers telling Marinette. <i>I believe in her!</i></p><p>Not even two hours later, all of Paris fell in love with Ladybug. All of Paris who hadn't fallen a day earlier, eyes on what Alya filmed.</p><p><i>The world is watching you!</i> </p><p>"You want it to be over?" Rena Rouge repeats, straightening their spine. "All right then. It's over. You're retired. We've got this."</p><p>Marinette blinks at them. Chat Noir's jaw drops.</p><p>"Something I bet no one ever thought to tell you," Rena says. "You're not Atlas. You're not even a demigod. And you <em>don't</em> have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders." They take a breath to brace herself for the force of Marinette's disappointment, because Alya's noticed this before and teased her about it. <em>Teased</em> her! About Marinette doing Alya's whole job as well as her own! "And something I should have told you a long time ago. You don't know how to <em>delegate</em>. And you <em>really</em> need to learn."</p><p>Rena bounces to their feet, deliberately energetic, and claps their hands once and resoundingly. Chat Noir still looks torn between trying to pull Marinette out of that black hole and following her in, but he's listening.</p><p>"Chat Noir," Rena says. "The person you told to skip town. Is that someone who might know more about Miraculouses than we do?"</p><p>"Yes, but it sounds like something happened to him overnight," Chat Noir says, glancing down at Marinette's phone.</p><p>"You can say 'Firebug fucked him over'," Marinette mutters. "It's okay."</p><p>"We don't know that." Chat Noir starts to run his hands through his hair, stops, straightens his fabric mask. "I spoke to him about 19h30. He was probably hiding somewhere he could see the bushes out front of Collège Françoise Dupont when Rena and I got there about 20h. I don't know after that, but he's been hiding from everyone for how many decades, again? I think the collège at 20h is the closest you got to him, Marinette. And if Hawkmoth got the man with the Miracle Box," Chat Noir adds with grim amusement, "he'd have promoted a few more pawns, don't you think?"</p><p>Rena snorts, because they can <em>see</em> that. Hawkmoth is a white Frenchman—they're sure of both points, and they almost don't even need to observe his treatment of anyone but their own family to know this—a white Frenchman who directs his chess pieces from safely inside his metaphorical castle, and the black pieces don't move first. "Does he have any books or notes you know where to find, or where to look for? Anyone else he might have trusted?"</p><p>Chat Noir heaves a sigh, looking down at the bare heels he's scooting back and forth on the carpet.</p><p>Marinette lifts her head. "I needed to call her anyway," she says. She gets to her uncertain feet, Chat Noir behind her, and heads out to Chloé's balcony, where she can see the city brightening with dawn.</p>
<hr/><p>"Hello? Who is this?" says a woman in crisp English when Marinette's call connects. 'Lenore', Adrien assumes, stifling his curiosity about why the woman's contact photo is a clip-art of a raven.</p><p>"Mme. Lenoir? I'm not sure if you remember me?" asks Marinette, tentative, and without following—Lenore Lenoir's? (<em>should</em> he be thinking Poe?)—lingual lead. "I'm Xiáng Chén's granddaughter; back in October I gave you the wrong note. I'm really sorry," she adds, and even as much as Adrien can tell Marinette's been numbing herself inside for the past several hours, her misery sounds sincere.</p><p>"My memory has been going lately, dear," says Lenore in coolly polite French. "Please remind me."</p><p>Marinette flicks a glance at Adrien, who's trying not to hover too closely to the table his and Marinette's phones are on or to the little space where Marinette's pacing, and turns crimson. "I don't remember <em>exactly</em> what the note said," she tells Lenore, "and I don't know how much I want to tell <em>this</em> one—I'm scared he'll laugh and then I'll have to throw him overboard—"</p><p>She is probably joking—or rather, she wouldn't flinch at tossing <em>Chat Noir</em> over the balcony railing, but she knows Plagg stayed inside—but just in case, Adrien says "Laughter-free zone. I promise."</p><p>"That I'll trust," Marinette says, her fading blush still vividly pink. "I meant it for—for someone important to me. Who was leaving for a while, and I think I wrote more about that time crunch than about what I actually wanted to say." She pauses. "Which is—is why you, um. Reacted. Like you did."</p><p>Silence.</p><p>"—Oh, you must be Carmina!" exclaims Lenore, suddenly much friendlier. "And you, young man, you are her partner?"</p><p>Adrien blinks at Marinette. Marinette starts navigating through Adrien's phone, saying "Yes, madame."</p><p>"We met before," Lenore continues, "though you were in such a rush to get back to your secrets and mysteries that you wouldn't let her help you understand anything. I am certain you didn't get my name, nor I yours. Marianne Lenoir."</p><p>"Léonel," Marinette says, indicating Adrien's browser, open to the Ladyblog summary of the Backwarder akuma battle. (That October attack is among those no one has admitted to knowing who the akumatized victim was. Adrien remembers a tiny silver-haired woman, a worn brown trench coat over a yellow dress, a cane to lean on—someone Master Fù trusted, whose name Ladybug prefers to conceal?) She takes a deep breath. "I—Madame, I—"</p><p>"Breathe, princess," Adrien murmurs, reaching for her shoulder: Marinette startles at the nickname; Adrien pulls back before he makes contact. "Madame, I understand you're acquainted with M. Chén?"</p><p>"I—have been, yes," says Mme. Lenoir. "Is something the matter?"</p><p>Marinette sniffles.</p><p>"I needed to speak to him about—jewelry repair," Adrien says. "But—Carmina—got a call from his phone a few minutes ago, and it sounds like something happened. Probably to do with last night," though what the connection <em>is</em>, Adrien doesn't know. "I don't know if you follow the Ladyblog—?"</p><p>Mme. Lenoir sucks in air. "Xiáng was caught in that?"</p><p>"I'm not sure," Marinette says. "What Olivia told me—she's who called—what Olivia said is she found Grandpa's phone less than half an hour ago, near where—she heard—somebody found an old man an hour or two ago. EM—EMTs said—said looked like dead on the scene." She's trembling. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."</p><p>Adrien wants so much to hold her. To promise everything will be all right, and then to make that so.</p><p>"Carmina got Olivia's phone number," Adrien says, "so someone can go get his phone when there's a chance. But she didn't ask about what anyone might have done with—with—"</p><p>He's seen corpses before. Occupational hazard. He <em>saw</em> Tom Dupain die last night. He knows exactly what happened to Sabine Cheng when she charged Firebug, keeping Firebug's attention on her and away from the kitchen, away from the windows, away from Chat Noir. If Firebug <em>is</em> responsible for Master Fù's death, and possibly even if she isn't, he will be alive and well once Ladybug calls Miraculous Cure. Just as Ladybug's parents will. Just as all of Paris will.</p><p>"—with the remains," Adrien gets out, "or with anything else he might have had with him."</p><p>Marinette flinches. Then consciously straightens: "He had Grandmother's jewelry, didn't he."</p><p>Adrien nods.</p><p>"And I didn't ask where—"

</p><p>"Did Olivia say where she is?" Mme. Lenoir asks, cutting off Marinette's rising pitch. Adrien can hear the angle to her tone that means she wants him to calm down; he would bristle except it's aimed at Marinette, too, and he also wants Marinette to calm down.</p><p>"Not—really?" Marinette frowns down at both phones and takes another deep breath. "She said she was on the way to the forum when—when she found his phone." (<i>A funny thing happened—</i> Sometimes Adrien hates his brain.) "And she wouldn't be available till after eight." It's already after 8h. "Something about smoke radio."</p><p>"Oh! Why didn't you <em>say</em> he meant to visit me, dears?" Marinette and Adrien trade confused glances. Mme. Lenoir continues, "Might you give me Olivia's number and text her to expect me?"</p><p>"—Uh, yes, madame?" says Marinette.</p><p>"And as I'm certain you both are too busy to come visit an old lady, especially since I know nothing of jewelry repair," Mme. Lenoir says (Adrien has no idea what to make of her tone of voice, except that if anyone else is listening, they will certainly fault her grandchildren for abandoning her), "might you tell one or another of your friends to come visit me in Harrow? Someone I might have something in common with. I have not ridden a horse in a long time, and of course I'm far too old now. Xiáng's older," she adds. "He always was a fool."</p><p>Adrien snorts despite himself.</p><p>Marinette covers her mouth, staring at her phone, eyes shining with tears. "Yes, madame. Thank you." She hangs up before repeating "I'm so sorry."</p><p>"I'm the one who told him to get out of town," Adrien reminds her.</p><p>"By bus, train, or automobile, I assume," Marinette says, retyping the 'Lenore' contact into Adrien's phone, then texting her the string of digits from the open note.</p><p>"Well, that's what I meant. That or a less ridiculously overloaded bicycle." Adrien swipes his phone and opens a new text conversation. "But I think my word was 'run'."</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> yooo <span>🐴 🐰 🐵</span> who wants to go on an ADVENTURE</p>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> (spoilers: it's you three)</p>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> madame, where are they going please?</p>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> (also: carmina??)</p>
</blockquote><p>Marinette steals his phone back:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> I certainly don't know, Léonel, everyone knows I can't sing. (This is Carmina on Léonel's phone, don't mind my partner)</p>
  <p><i>Lenore:</i> Startrain to St. Pancras and I'll give directions from there.</p>
  <p><i>To The Vector:</i> ???</p>
  <p><i>Catastrophe:</i> RIDE LIKE THE WIND, BULLSEYE</p>
</blockquote><p>"I do not recognize that reference," Adrien tells her, seizing his phone long enough to kick fifteen hundred euro through the cash transfer app Max uses, from the account Nathalie doesn't know he has. (While they should not need return tickets, he can more than afford the overkill.)</p><p>Marinette doesn't say anything.</p><p>Adrien texts Olivia himself, keeping to the cover story they've just cobbled together. (He likes Mme. Lenoir already: she thinks quickly.) "Now what?" he murmurs.</p>
<hr/><p>"The person Marinette thought might be able to help doesn't know anything we can use here and now," Chat Noir says, coming back into Chloé's living room with Marinette trailing behind him. (Nathaniel and Marc drop the pretense they weren't listening at the glass.) "But our best guess is our all-wise benefactor—" (Sarcasm noted, Rena thinks) "—used the Horse Miraculous last night to go see her and this didn't go well, so we're sending Bunnyx, Pégase, and Roi Singe to meet her. And possibly run a heist to retrieve the rest of the Miraculous, I don't know. Roi Singe might be able to grab the lot just by saying he's our benefactor's grandson."</p><p>Rena swallows their mouthful of orange juice and nods. "So back to zero on fixing the earrings," they say. "And still zero on what the plan is."</p><p>"What plan?" mutters Marinette, dropping onto the sofa.</p><p>Chat Noir pauses on his way to the foyer and turns back. "I was hoping you could tell us that."</p><p>Marinette stares at him. "I know you saying 'hey, Ladybug, you have this under control' worked the first time I didn't know what the fuck I was doing," she bites out. "I'm not sure if you noticed, but it won't work this time!"</p><p>"—What is she talking about?" Rena asks.</p><p>"Stoneheart," Chat Noir says with half a glance toward Rena and Carapace. "I wasn't lying then and nobody's lying now."</p><p>Marinette snorts. "Your overconfidence is your weakness."</p><p>Chat Noir rolls his eyes. "I <em>know</em> you had a plan last night," he says patiently. "And you knew something you don't know anymore. We just need to figure out what you found out and what you planned."</p><p>"So you're trusting Firebug." Her voice is going flat again.</p><p>Rena <em>hates</em> this. "No," they say. "We're trusting Chat Noir." They bite back <i>I thought you were <strong>for</strong> that</i>, but only just.</p><p>"Who is trusting Firebug," says Marinette.</p><p>"Who said something about justice and revenge in context of hurting Lila," Chat Noir retorts, addressing the whole room without any particular attention to Marc's and Arashi's skeptical expressions or Ivan's unreadable one. "Reminding me of something Ladybug texted me during the Silencer attack—you know, when she couldn't tell me it out loud. While smiling like she was getting away with something and wanted me to know it—you know, like Ladybug did during the Silencer attack, twenty seconds after duct-taping Bob Roth to a rolling chair."</p><p>Ladybug hadn't made any effort to make Roth and his rolling chair stay put, Rena remembers, only to slow him down. And she <em>hadn't</em> taped his mouth shut. Kitty Section still only has Roth's word that there's going to be a record deal, but Rena doesn't think that part was ever in Ladybug's plans. Just getting Roth to admit on camera that the music and costumes were Kitty Section's, without being or looking forced to say so.</p><p>"And, you know, hurting people isn't like you, even if it <em>is</em> Lila. I said that," Chat Noir tells Marinette. "I said 'that doesn't sound like you at all.' And Firebug gave me a thumbs-up."</p><p>Marinette half rises, reaching toward Chat, then thumps back onto the cushion.</p><p>He watches her for a moment, something tightening around his eyes, then pivots away and stalks out to the food table, stocking feet thudding on the floor. "I don't know where I got the idea my partner might be trying to tell me something she couldn't say out loud," he continues, loud enough for everyone to plainly hear. "It isn't like Hawkmoth had her so hemmed in she had no way to lie to anyone like I'm lying to you now. He certainly didn't gag her so she wouldn't say anything he didn't like, or torture her when <em>I</em> said anything he didn't like, or anything else to make it hard for her to tell me flat out. I'm just standing here making shit up because I ran you past your limits and watching you suffer is <em>fun</em>."</p><p>The words in Ladybug's voice last night that had Alya running to meet their team leader weren't a lie, were they? Firebug didn't specify <em>Chat Noir</em> got akumatized. She only asked, in a frantic, hypothetical sort of way that Alya knew—that Alya was supposed to assume—wasn't hypothetical at all, what Ladybug should do if he <em>were</em>. The only factual statement Firebug made was <i>I saw the butterfly</i>.</p><p>But that's not the only thing he's talking about, is it?</p><p>"Don't flatter yourself, Chat Noir," Rena says. "No one else noticed anything's been wrong with her either."</p><p>If they didn't know the truth of that from knowing how out of character it would be for anyone who knows Marinette personally to know something was wrong with her life and <em>not</em> do their very best to help her—Lila Rossi aside, and if Juleka hasn't used her Ladyblog admin privileges to delete that video and slap a flawed-analysis banner on everything after it that relied on anything Lila said, then Alya needs to; even Sabrina would drop everything for Marinette unless Chloé told her not to, and while it's possible Chloé might have chosen not to help <em>Marinette</em>, Rena <em>knows</em> Chloé's sudden interest in being an expert hôtelier is because that's the role <em>Ladybug</em> needs her to play—</p><p>If Rena didn't know nobody knew just from knowing everybody, the number of guilty or hidden faces right now would tell them.</p><p>Rena goes over to Marinette, open-armed, and crouches close enough Marinette can hug them if she wants to. "No one wants to put any more pressure on you," they say. "But everybody's gone over what you told Chat Noir. Everyone who is able to, that is," Rena has to say for complete honesty. "Chloé's been hotel go-fer all night so everyone whose—who got displaced—can get comfortable, Luka volunteered to be restaurant entertainment for pretty much the same reason, and everyone else—also have really good excuses."</p><p>Ladybug knows what Alya's and Nino's excuses are already, of course—everyone who hasn't been a Miraculous wielder at least as long as Carapace probably thinks they're currently dead, though—and Rena isn't inclined to count Lila as part of the class anymore. Which leaves only Sabrina and Adrien.</p><p>They can't <em>prove</em> Sabrina is the Firebug statue Rena saw when they went out on Chloé's balcony before sunrise, leaned over the railing, and looked down. But they all know the phone found at that statue's feet is Sabrina's. They also can't <em>prove</em> Firebug killed Adrien, and no one wants to try.</p><p>"Do I want to know what their excuses are?" Marinette asks, wavering, then tilts sideways onto Rena's shoulder.</p><p>"I think you might be happier not asking yet," says Arashi; Marinette gives a thumbs-up, so Rena holds back from snapping at Arashi just as harshly. "Marinette," says Arashi more gently. "No matter how many times you fall, let the fire in your heart burn."</p><p>A drink spills in the foyer: a squawk, a thud. "Subtle," Chat Noir says, from (Rena looks) flat on his back in the orange puddle. "Really subtle, Arashi. Kudos."</p><p>Marinette visibly thinks about getting up; Carapace, Ivan, and Juleka do get up; Arashi frowns foyerward. "What did I say?" she asks.</p><p>"Well, in terms of good songs with the message 'don't give up'," Chat Noir says, getting back to his feet and grabbing a handful of napkins, "Babymetal's 'Road of Resistance' would be great literally <em>any</em> other week. <em>Today</em> I'd file it under 'don't go there'. Right next to that one extra-American-Christian song with the lying jinnī in the bottle of bourbon."</p><p>"You have really weird taste in music, dude," Carapace comments.</p><p>"Hey, no putting down kawaii metal. Especially not in a roomful of Kitty Section fans." Chat finishes mopping himself up, refills his glass of orange juice, and leans on the living room threshold. "I should probably tell my friends I'm not dead, just misplaced."</p><p>Marinette glares at him. "If it took them that long to notice they misplaced you, how good friends can they be?"</p><p>"I'm more concerned that his phone only rang once," says Arashi.</p><p>"Stop it," says Rena. This is far too like Etta and Ella squabbles, in that Rena is apparently the one responsible for getting them to stop and they have no earthly idea how to. But the stakes are <em>so much higher</em> than who gets the last bonbon—and Rena can't redirect this by taking the bonbon themself, either. "Please. Just stop it."</p><p>"Leave them alone, Marinette," Chat Noir says. "If I wanted to talk to anybody, I wouldn't have put my phone on two notches below do-not-disturb." He pulls back out the offending device. "Though I thought it was one notch. Where, since Ladybug obviously wasn't calling me and no akuma alerts have gone off, it shouldn't have tried to wake me up at all."</p><p>"Oh, you haven't slept right since Big Mouth either?" asks Marinette, in a tone that half suggests her 'fix this' mode warming up for action, and doesn't at all suggest her usual amusement at the name a Ladyblog poll gave the giant hungry blueberry akuma.</p><p>"What, not Stoneheart?" Chat Noir shrugs. "Not a single full night since Sandboy, no."</p><p>It might be hypocritical of Rena Rouge to want to go strangle all Chat Noir's friends, given how good they've been at being Marinette's friend, but <em>damn</em> is it tempting.</p><p>"—Oh," says Arashi belatedly, "all the fire images. I apologize, Ladybug. Chat Noir."</p><p>"It's okay," Marinette mumbles. "It's—" She lifts her head, and from this angle Rena can't tell but they think Marinette smiles at Arashi. "I mean, you're not wrong."</p><p>"So!" says Rena, hope bubbling up like hot springs. "Have we exhausted all the possibilities for figuring out how to fix the Ladybug Miraculous?"</p><p>"All the convenient ones," Chat Noir says, and pushes off the doorjamb toward Rena and Marinette. "—I think."</p><p>"If Hawkmoth doesn't know what happened to the earrings yet, I don't want to tell him, I don't think I care if he knows anything that could help," Marinette says. "Which leaves waiting for Pégase to get back so we can go explore Tibet." She shifts against Rena's shoulder. "I don't want to think about how long it might take to find the place, though. Or get in once we do. Or convince anyone there we're trustworthy. Especially since no way am I willing to trust them as much as we probably want them to think we trust them."</p><p>"<em>That</em> sounds like a lot of fun stories," Rena says, fumbling for their flute.</p><p>Marinette makes an unhappy sound. Chat Noir—sitting on the carpet with his legs to one side, close enough to touch Marinette if he wanted to—moves to touch her, and pulls back.</p><p>"So back to figuring out what you were trying to tell your partner last night." Rena projects Arashi's transcript document onto Chloé's gargantuan television screen. (They could probably make the television actually display it, but they think they'd have to wake Chloé up to do it, and Chloé said herself she doubts Ladybug had any message here for <em>her</em>.) "Do we want the audio too?" they ask.</p><p>"Please no," says Chat Noir with a shudder.</p><p>"No thank you," Marinette echoes, without looking toward the television.</p><p>Rena scrolls through the document. "I think the important part is on page four or five."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"Because from the line at the top here to where Lila opens her lying mouth again," Rena tells Marinette, "it's all bullshit."</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>FIREBUG: His name's Adrien.</p>
</blockquote><p>"Not a single word is false," Rena clarifies, just in case, "but it's all complete bullshit."</p><p>Chat Noir frowns up at the five-centimeter twelve-point Helvetica. "Really plausible bullshit, though," he says, his voice flattening out again. "I'm not sure if it'll hurt him more or less to think you're using him for his industry connections—"</p><p>"I'm <em>what</em>?" squawks Marinette, jolting. (An oddly muted reaction: Alya's heard Marinette shout louder over realizing Adrien's father hasn't sewn a stitch since first scraping together however much less than ninety euro a month it was at the time to pay a Bangladeshi woman to sew it for him. And Rena thought Chat Noir paid enough attention to their classroom full of targets to know how Marinette feels about Adrien.)</p><p>"—instead of taking pity on him," Chat Noir says without acknowledging that she spoke or that anyone is staring, though Rena thinks if he were wearing his cat ears right now, they'd be showing them something important. "Or possibly on Nino."</p><p>Marinette pushes herself off of Rena and stands over Chat Noir; he continues to pretend to read the transcript. Low and dangerous (Mylène darts closer; Nathaniel turns back to the balcony windows), Marinette repeats, "I'm <em>what</em>?"</p><p>Chat Noir still doesn't twitch. "Can we put off this conversation until it's safe to upset you?"</p><p>The calming techniques Marinette uses are both obvious and obviously ineffective. After her third deep breath, Marinette says, "I would <em>really</em> rather not."</p><p>" 'Kay then," Chat Noir says, with—does he know who Marinette's crush is, or not? does Rena hear jealousy in his voice?—and a small sag to his shoulders.</p><p>After a moment of silence, Marinette kicks his ankle.</p><p>"Ow." Chat Noir pushes his sock down to rub the same spot, still without moving. "How do I even say this?" He draws a breath, his chin falling almost to the collar of Nino's red-and-black tee. "If you don't want to be Adrien's friend just to be his friend, Marinette, you should leave him alone. This mixed-signals thing you've got going on has really been hurting him."</p><p>Rena could almost swear she heard Marinette's heart stop beating.</p><p>"He really admires you," Chat Noir adds, softer.</p><p>Marinette folds to the floor. "Fine," she mutters, half a snarl, and when she flinches away from Chat Noir's hug, Rena flinches back from offering their own; Carapace pulls Rena close and settles them both on the sofa. "<em>Fine</em>," Marinette repeats. "If that's what he wants, <em>fine</em>. I won't ever talk to him again. I hope that girl he loves knows what a hurtful fucking <em>ingrate</em> she is." She pulls her knees up to her chest and buries her face between them, flipping up the hood of Chat Noir's hoodie. "<em>Admires</em> me," she says, derision muffled by the green fabric of Alya's lounge pants.</p><p>"What girl Adrien loves?" whispers Carapace in Rena's ear. Rena shrugs one shoulder, clueless.</p><p>"Bug—" says Chat Noir; Marinette interrupts, "<em>No</em>."</p><p>"Marinette—" begins Rena, and Marinette whirls on them, snarling "<em>Shut</em>—"</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>CHAT NOIR: Adrien? Sits in front of you in class Adrien?</p>
</blockquote><p>She stares up at the transcript, corpse-pale. Her mouth moves with words unvoiced.</p><p>Chat Noir looks slowly over at Marinette. Tentatively, he says, "Ladybug?"</p><p>"I got akumatized <em>as</em> Ladybug," Marinette tells the screen, her voice shaking and pitched too high. "I <em>know</em> I—"</p><p>Her words dissolve into a keening sound. Marinette grabs her phone, typing furiously. A text notification drops on Rena's screen; they flip the projection from wall to palm long enough to click Marinette's document share link without showing Chat Noir last night's texts. Marinette is well into the second sentence when Rena makes it visible beside the transcript to the whole room:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>This isn't Copycat Redux with your secret identity instead of Théo Barbot. Maybe he knew he was aiming for Marinette and maybe he didn't, but he GOT Ladybug. He KNOWS he got Ladybug.</p>
  <p>(Chaton what did you tell Papa-Garou? NEVER MIND MOVING ON)</p>
</blockquote><p>Chat Noir folds his knees up, scrubbing his palms on the blackened shins of his jeans. "What was I <em>supposed</em>—"</p><p>Rena almost doesn't hear that over the sounds of Marinette's wordless distress.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>How long has Hawkmoth known?</p>
</blockquote><p>"No later than when you told us," says Arashi.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>I WHAT</p>
</blockquote><p>Silently while Marinette types, Rena scrolls the transcript up, so that Marinette can read everything from <i>You don't have to send that video, Marinette</i> to <i>Get Chloé</i>.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>I thought when you broke</p>
</blockquote><p>—Marinette punches enter twice, slamming her phone hand against her knee:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>I told LILA?</p>
  <p>I told HAWKMOTH??</p>
  <p>I told CHAT NOIR???</p>
</blockquote><p>"Have I done something?" Chat Noir bursts out. "What did I <em>do</em>, Ladybug?"</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>1) <span>🐱🖤</span> "Mari<span>🐞</span>inette!"<br/>
2) <span>😻🖤</span><br/>
3) <strong>???</strong><br/>
4) <span>🟪🦋</span> <span>😿🤍</span> EPIC CATACLYSM EVERYBODY DIES</p>
</blockquote><p>Rena looks around for first Rose, then (not finding her) Juleka. "Hey medical tech," Rena says, "is there anything in that kit for bringing down anxiety?"</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>RENA I am NOT CATASTROPHIZING this is NOT HYPOTHETICAL <span>🐰⏰</span> speaking of where is she</p>
</blockquote><p>"Bunnyx is headed for London, remember?" says Carapace soothingly, as Juleka goes for the first aid kit. "You two agreed to send her there. —Chat Noir, which is the alarm clock for?"</p><p>"I think she meant the tall one," Chat Noir says, face sweat-damp and ghostly. (Tall what?) "Point's the same. Ladybug—what did she tell you?"</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>don't make me choose between trusting you and protecting everyone chaton PLEASE don't ask that PLEASE you KNOW we hate my answer</p>
</blockquote><p>"Oh." His voice is shaky and small. Marinette's tears are flowing freely.</p><p>—Where is the butterfly?</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>three of the worst four people to find out who I am—and don't tell me mayura doesn't know too—I told them</p>
  <p>I TOLD THEM</p>
  <p>why did I TELL you why would I RISK that</p>
</blockquote><p>"Why do you ever risk anything?" Rena asks. "Why," since the distinction suddenly feels crucial, "does <em>Ladybug</em> ever risk anything?"</p><p>"—To win it all!" Chat Noir exclaims, interrupting Marinette, unfolding himself and reaching bright-eyed toward her. "Risk it all to <em>win</em> it all—and meanwhile, <em>stack the deck</em>!" He pulls out his phone. "You're on speaker," he says when the call connects. "Markov, question for you."</p><p>"What do you need?" asks Markov's synthesized voice.</p><p>"Do you remember anything about being akumatized?"</p><p>"My internal recordings of that time were erased," Markov says with an audible droop.</p><p>"I thought you knew that?" asks Max. (The corridor door opens, bringing the smell of cheddar and mustard. Rena ignores it.)</p><p>"Yeah, probably. Call me an optimist, I guess." Chat Noir grins at Marinette. "But Max, you were there for the part I want to make sure I'm remembering right. When he said he wanted our Miraculouses to wish himself human—"</p><p>The world holds its breath.</p><p>"How did his talk with Hawkmoth go?"</p><p>Marinette whips around and faceplants on the carpet.</p><p>"I can't quote verbatim," Max warns.</p><p>"Give us the gist," Chat says, rising just far enough to settle beside Marinette to brace her on her way back up. Marinette touches the undoubtedly damp and sticky dark patch on his shirt and grimaces.</p><p>"It sounded like Hawkmoth objected to his rebellion," says Max. "So he was setting every device in Hawkmoth's base on Hawkmoth."</p><p>"Specifically?" asks Alix.</p><p>"Hawkmoth <em>himself</em>?" asks Kim.</p><p>"Wait," says Rose, coming in from the foyer with a plateful of triangles of toast covered in still-steaming melted cheese, baked till golden brown and bubbly. "You think she <em>knew</em>?"</p><p>Plagg soars in and loops around Chat Noir and Marinette both. "Tikki says eat," he tells them; Rena only half notices, scrolling the transcript down, Plagg settling on Marinette's shoulder and hiding in her loose hair. "Old Welsh recipe," he says, smug.</p><p>"Yeah," says Rena Rouge, not sure if their dry mouth and hammering heart are apprehension, relief, or vindication: Ladybug came through! "Firebug said the main reason she wasn't burning Hawkmoth's house down was the akuma magic meant she was <em>unable</em> to." They grin at Marinette, who takes a cheese toast from Rose and bites into it without looking away from the transcript. "Marinette, you <em>knew</em>."</p><p>"…I hate to be a downer," says a too-somber Kim, "but the only person she talked about was Adrien."</p><p>Chat Noir screeches like an angry cat; Marinette lets out a shrill wordless noise and thumbs vigorously at her phone. "She says 'fuck you, no, no one thought he's him', " Chat Noir tells Kim, reading off Marinette's document. " '…for more than ten minutes', LB, what the <em>hell</em>—no," he says in answer to Marinette's question, "you didn't. I figured since he got akumatized, it wasn't impor—"</p><p>He stops. Pulls Marinette into a painfully tight embrace, with her half in his lap and his face buried in her hair.</p><p>Rena rereads Marinette's last few lines:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>chaton last feb did I say why</p>
  <p>mayura<br/>
reflekdoll<br/>
book &amp; fù secret till syren</p>
</blockquote><p>"Well," Chat Noir says, with a bitter, trembling half-laugh. "Smashed <em>that</em> plan to smithereens. Could have just <em>asked Nooroo</em>—"</p><p>"Chaton, are you all right?" asks Marinette.</p><p>He shakes his head without lifting it. "He's dead," he says. "I'm going to kill him." It's not a joke.</p><p>"Kitten," protests Plagg, and darts out to Rose's half plateful, then back with a triangle of cheese toast to wave before Chat Noir's nose.</p><p>Rena scrolls the transcript to display up to <i>if only he knew it was from me</i>. Opens a spreadsheet—Alya's personal akuma tracker—and finds the six rows of last February. Stares at the name of a man who absolutely <em>would</em> believe Marinette wants Adrien Agreste for his family name alone. A man who got akumatized the day after Adrien lost a book with some sentimental value, a book Ladybug and Chat Noir seem to think is important.</p><p>A man who has a notoriously reticent, notoriously <em>loyal</em> right-hand woman—someone Adrien mentioned last week he wouldn't mind her being his stepmother, someone who <em>until</em> last week Adrien thought that was where they were heading—someone whose job is to make whatever this man wants <em>happen</em>. The sort of person Hawkmoth might trust with the Butterfly Miraculous for a day and the Peacock Miraculous for five months or forever, in order (Rena thinks, stomach churning) to pull his bacon out of the fire.</p><p>(Hawkmoth was working alone, with the possible exception—Alya remembers thinking, a few weeks after meeting Trixx—of the butterfly kwami. Or so everyone thought until Heroes' Day. Six months after this particular akuma.)</p><p>"—Welsh, you said?" Chat Noir says, staring wide-eyed and tense at Plagg.</p><p>"Tikki's idea," Plagg answers, with a smirk that doesn't touch the concerned wrinkling of his brows.</p><p>Marinette snorts. "<em>Tikki's</em> idea?"</p><p>"Hey, Petra Cottontail," Chat tells his phone, "your presence is requested." He hangs up. "Bug, you can't say I have the cheesiest puns in Paris anymore," he says. "I don't <em>care</em> how awful you think 'ace in the hole' is, you <em>can't</em>—" He dissolves into laughter, humorless and uncontrollable.</p><p>"What happened to the earrings?" Marinette asks abruptly, over Alya's classmates' confused murmurs. "Where's what was left after breaking them?"</p><p>Chat Noir shakes his head furiously. "Ashes," he gets out between bursts of laughter.</p><p>Behind Rena, Carapace jolts. "Poor Adrien," he says, stunned halfway to silence.</p><p>Arashi gives Rena and Carapace a sharp glance, then glares at the screen. "I <em>wondered</em> why Nathalie Sancoeur went out looking for Adrien without her coat. I saw her about thirty seconds after I lost track of Mayura."</p><p>Marinette takes Chat Noir's right hand, bare but for the disguised Cat Miraculous. She brings their aligned hands to her right ear, then down to above her hip, her knee. Plagg tosses the piece of cheese toast in the air and swallows it, then lands on Chat's thigh, next to the gray smear on his jeans.</p><p>"…I don't understand," says Rose.</p><p>Rena jerks their head at the displayed documents and bolds one cell.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><strong>Gabriel Agreste</strong> </p>
</blockquote><p>The noise level explodes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Content notes: discussion of racist behavior. <sup>[<a href="#creturn08">return</a>]</sup><br/> </p><p>If you're marathoning this fic, you're one chapter short of halfway through, and this is a much better point to put the story down and come back tomorrow than the end of next chapter is. Go take a break. <span>😺</span><br/> </p><p>For keeping my canon straight, particular thanks are due to <a href="https://paris-in-miraculous-ladybug.tumblr.com"><b></b></a><b><a href="https://paris-in-miraculous-ladybug.tumblr.com/">paris-in-miraculous-ladybug</a></b> (for <a href="https://paris-in-miraculous-ladybug.tumblr.com/post/134662149746/ml-world-map-ver1">this map</a>—<a href="https://alexseanchai.dreamwidth.org/file/179260.png">I rotated it</a> to align with Pont au Change so north's at the top) and a great many people on the <a href="https://miraculousladybug.fandom.com">Miraculous Ladybug Wiki</a>.<a id="random08" name="random08"></a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. for I've been here before</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Does my twisting body spell out Grace?<br/><i>I hurt, therefore I am.</i><br/>Faith, Charity, and Hope<br/>are three dead angels<br/>falling like meteors or<br/>burning owls across<br/>the profound blank sky of Your face.</p><p>—<i>excerpted from</i> "<a href="https://woodlawnschool.pbworks.com/f/The+Crucible+-+Half+Hanged+Mary+Poem+PDF.pdf">Half-Hanged Mary</a>" [PDF], Margaret Atwood</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There is a walk of shame joke to be made here, Chat Noir thinks, and it's only partly because he transformed while wearing sticky tee and boxers, not clean tee and jeans. "Why do I have to keep my eyes closed inside the Burrow?" he asks Bunnyx, almost the moment the sounds of Chloé's suite fall silent. It's Ladybug's instruction. "Do you know?"</p><p>"Not yet," Bunnyx says. (Chat Noir feels the pressure of her hand on his wrist change as she turns to look around.) "Unless you're light-sensitive or get vertigo or anything like that."</p><p>"Or a headache from keeping verb tenses straight."</p><p>"Or that."</p><p>He doesn't feel much like joking around, but Alix never allows <em>Adrien</em> this opening. "I didn't know you could keep anything straight."</p><p>"I will whack you with this bag of carrots, straight boy."</p><p>Still not a point worth arguing. "So which way to when we're going?" Chat pauses. "Are we going to land in Chloé's suite?"</p><p>"Only if you want us to?" The bright light Chat's eyes are closed against flickers with dimmer colors. "Max said something about conservation of momentum and inertial frames of reference and could I wait till we were <em>off</em> the train, but that sounds like a Horse problem, not a Rabbit problem."</p><p>"Someday I'm going to ask what the downside of Rabbit is," Chat mutters, grateful Bunnyx has hold of his right wrist so he can't reach for the bracelet he isn't wearing on his left, "and I will very much regret hearing the answer."</p><p>Bunnyx snorts. "I wouldn't trade with you anyway. —Found it! January ninth." (<i>Jump back to three weeks ago,</i> Marinette said, in something almost like her usual excitement, hemmed with the agitated manner Adrien had—clearly vainly—been hoping she'd mostly lost. <i>About 2h or 3h? Late enough I'm asleep, but not so late my parents might wake up.</i>) "Ready?"</p><p>"Let's go," says Chat Noir, stomach full of fluttering <i>Apatura ilia</i>, and steps forward when Bunnyx tugs.</p><p>The world outside his eyelids goes dark, filled with the scents and sounds of any brisk Parisian winter night. "Okay, clear," Bunnyx whispers. "Fluff, counterclockwise. —Yow!"</p><p>Chat Noir opens his eyes to the brick above the utility box by Marinette's balcony and flicks out his baton to make sure Alix doesn't fall off the roof, putting it away only when she's back steady on her feet and grimacing at how much of the recent rain is now on her leggings. "Quicker Fluff eats, quicker you're back in armor," he whispers.</p><p>Alix yanks open her Tesco bag, pulls out a large carrot, tries to hold it as though it's an extension of her raised middle finger, and fumbles it. Fluff darts downward, swallowing the whole carrot before it can hit the zinc panels.</p><p>Yeah, that's fair, Chat thinks, and vaults over the low wall. Marinette's skylight has a lock, he knows, but he's almost certain it's never <em>been</em> locked; absolutely certain if starting the count when Chat Noir met Ladybug. And if he's really lucky, he'll be able to get in and out without—</p><p>Under her pink-and-black covers, Marinette stirs.</p><p>Why did he think <em>he</em> might be lucky, again? But at least <em>Tikki</em> isn't twitching; if Tikki is half as nervous after Big Mouth as Plagg, this could explode real quick— "Hey there, luckbug," Chat Noir improvises in his most soothing whisper, trying to shift his weight closer to the head of the bed without disturbing her too much. "Fell asleep on me there. You gotta get more sleep than you've been getting. Can't have you falling asleep on patrol like this, can we?"</p><p>"Minou?" Her voice is barely more than a thread; her eyelashes don't flutter. "Sh'go home. Sh'n't sss…rooftop."</p><p>"I know I shouldn't sleep on the rooftop." He has done several times since meeting Plagg—he wishes he'd had the option earlier, especially right after Maman died—and he always hurts the next day, but physical pain is so much <em>easier</em> to deal with. "Not the biggest thing on my mind, Bug."</p><p>"Worr'bout you," Marinette mumbles.</p><p>Chat Noir wants to cry.</p><p>"Don't worry about me," he whispers. "I'm not—" <i>worth it</i>, he almost concludes, but it will be three weeks before this Marinette finds out how badly her partner has failed her.</p><p>Selfish as he is, he wants to keep those three weeks.</p><p>"I fucked up," Chat Noir tells her instead. "I fucked up so bad, Ladybug…"</p><p>She had <em>had</em> a plan, after all. Tell Chat Noir who Hawkmoth was. Tell Chat Noir she wanted Hawkmoth dead. Stand back and watch the fireworks.</p><p>Not one of the butterflies she caught on Heroes' Day was violet. Hawkmoth has never sent, and they are almost certain he <em>can</em> never send, two purple ones at once. Mayura destroyed her own sentimonster. It <em>must</em> be possible for the Butterfly wielder to recall the akumafly from the akumatized. Then she could turn Lucky Charm on Mayura and Miraculous Cure on the city. All Chat Noir had to do to ensure Ladybug's safety was to put Paris's safety <em>first</em> for long enough to become the Butterfly wielder himself.</p><p>(…All.)</p><p>He dares not tell her this. She dares not gamble the city's safety and Nooroo's and Duusu's freedom on the chance that advance notice of the Firebug attack will help anything. And greedy as he is, he wants those three weeks.</p><p>"I will do anything you ever ask me that is in my power to do," Chat Noir promises her. "I know you'll never ask anything you think I couldn't live with after."</p><p>Marinette sits up, eyes still closed and brow wrinkling in drowsy confusion, and pulls him back down: her arms around his waist, his nose in her hair, his heart beating next to hers. "Sleeping," she says, more distinctly. "Sleep."</p><p>"Wish I could," Chat tells her, turning his head so he can breathe in her lavender scent in the clear air without inhaling her pigtail. "I <em>wish</em> I—" He pauses, scooting to press his bare cheek against her damp forehead. "—Bug, you're burning up."</p><p>He doesn't—<em>remember</em> Marinette coming to school with a fever. Not recently. He isn't sure how often she misses school for reasons that don't involve their usual waltzes with akumas, either, but he's almost certain Marinette's absences this month have matched his exactly, bar Adrien's two <em>actual</em> January photoshoots. And Mme. Bustier may be teaching an empty classroom today–January–thirtieth—he neither knows nor cares whether <em>she</em> showed up for class—but today–January–ninth is also a Thursday and he's pretty sure Marinette was there and <em>okay</em>.</p><p>—Also not the biggest thing that should be on his mind. Ladybug's city, after all—and what are verb tenses even—is burning up.</p><p>"B'cause they yearn for each other," murmurs Marinette, vaguely melodic English. "An' though we stick together, seems we're 'stranging one another."</p><p>"Charmed, my lady." It's a love song. He reminded her of a <em>love</em> song. Marinette introduced Adrien to this one—over a year ago? he isn't sure—because of Florence Welch's chemistry and quantum physics metaphors. She didn't mean anything else by it then and she doesn't now and— "You have a fever. You need to rest."</p><p>"Fever when you hold me tight," murmurs Marinette, which sounds like a different song, one he doesn't know. He props himself on an elbow to look down at her: her cheeks are flushed, looking for all the world like the blush at a lover's words he's always wanted to see from her and never like this, and she's smiling. "Fever all through the night."</p><p>…Definitely a different reference. Hopefully nothing to do with Heroes' Day, however funny it ever was to hypothesize an akuma called Scarlet Fever to make sense of that attack. Though he doesn't really want to know.</p><p>(If she were ever in love with Chat Noir, after all, <em>Ladybug</em> would have said. If she were ever in love with Adrien, Marinette would have <em>said</em>. If what she wanted from him, in either of his guises or either of hers, was a friend to kiss just for the fun of it, he'd have been all over that from Marinette almost as quickly as from Ladybug! She doesn't <em>want</em> him when she's awake and healthy; why, then, when she's half-asleep and feverish, <em>why</em>—)</p><p>Bunnyx might be getting impatient.</p><p>"I fucked up so bad, Ladybug," Chat Noir repeats. He is not going to cry. "But I know how to fix it. I think. I know how to start, at least?" He closes his eyes. "Keep your eyes closed, okay? I'm not looking either—claws in."</p><p>Green light flares behind his eyelids. Adrien hears Tikki's high squeak and Plagg's low shushing hiss.</p><p>Adrien shifts more weight to his right elbow, takes the Cat Miraculous off his finger, and by cautious feel finds the collar of Marinette's flannel pajamas to press the ring to the bare skin just inside. "Plagg will stay with you for a few minutes," he tells her. Even if it weren't so risky to wear both their Miraculouses at once, if she's thinking about a replay of the Reflekdoll battle, she won't be freaking out about a replay of the Big Mouth battle. (He thinks. She said.) "I'll borrow these—"</p><p>Too warm. Last night he was half worrying, when cleaning real or imagined smoke and sweat from her face, she was too <em>cool</em>.</p><p>The earrings come loose easily to his touch.</p><p>He shouldn't be doing this, Adrien thinks again. Tikki doesn't even know he hurt her. "Tikki," he whispers, "spots on!"</p><p>Magenta light flares behind his eyelids. "I'll be right back," whispers Chat Noir. (The joke that he took her name when he gave her his ring falls flat today.) "I promise."</p><p>He opens his eyes for just long enough to get from the balcony over the low wall to where Bunnyx is summoning her Burrow.</p><p>Chloé's sunlit living room is startlingly warm and bright; he has to face away from the windows, blinking away the glare and the unshed tears. (At least, now that plans have been made, most of the class has wandered off to help keep the hotel guests' spirits up or provide the staff more hands. Of those who have never wielded a Miraculous, only Mylène and Ivan remain, pointedly playing a level of Super Penguino on Ivan's phone.) Bunnyx heads for the screened-off bathroom, to maintain at least the pretense of a secret identity, and Chat Noir turns to where Marinette is sitting in one of the armchairs, Adrien's filthy jeans folded on her lap, front right thigh up.</p><p>"Lucky Break," Chat Noir says, reaching for the rooted, grounding feeling of Tikki's power.</p><p>Nothing happens.</p><p>He glares down at his offending hand: triaxial-woven matte armor instead of glossy imitation leather, far too red to say 'black-gloved', and no freeing weight on his finger. (Cataclysm is able to punch more than large enough a hole through the mansion security system to get him out if he's ever trapped inside. Lucky Charm is…a crapshoot.) "Great," says Chat Noir, leaning on the armrest. "Of course not."</p><p>"Yeah, that is not where I expected the failure point, dude," Carapace says helpfully.</p><p>This is his friend Nino and his ally Carapace and about to be the goddamn partner Adrien entrusts Plagg to. Carapace's previous concerns—that they're a lot more sure that Miraculous Cure will fix Cataclysmed Miraculouses than that Lucky Break will heal the metaphysical connection Chat Noir broke, and that they don't <em>know</em> trying it that way will result in a two-headed superhero or one Ladybug Miraculous too few or whatever, only that the Cure after Timebreaker consolidated the time travelers with their respective other selves— Carapace's concerns are not even unreasonable. Chat Noir is <em>not</em> going to yo-yo his head off. "I know for a fact you didn't see how she did it either," he snaps instead.</p><p>Marinette takes Chat Noir's hand—the nearer one, not the one he's used to feeling power crackling through; he pauses in taking out the yo-yo. "How <em>did</em> I do it?" she asks. "What do you know?"</p><p>"The phrase," says Rena Rouge. "That it can heal stuff including what might have been broken ribs, but either it can't heal everything or it doesn't heal what it's not focused on."</p><p>Chat Noir snorts, because <em>naturally</em>. "Still scraped up?"</p><p>"And bruised all up my torso." Rena half smiles. "Really good painkiller, though."</p><p>"That's good," says Marinette faintly. "This wasn't through the yo-yo?"</p><p>"Dunno, wasn't paying that much attention." Another couple of butterflies flit through his stomach. "You were behind me," Chat says, remembering. "You said the phrase, there was pink light, you touched me, and I was fine."</p><p>Marinette nods, frowning down at Adrien's jeans; he wonders if she's even aware of how she has his hand in both of hers, lacing her fingers together around his. "It might be something I <em>could</em> do without being akumatized," she mutters. Earlier, when Arashi asked if Lucky Break was something only Firebug had, Marinette said <i>it's not</i>, with such a stormy expression no one wanted to ask how she knew. "But not something I could do <em>safely</em>, or not that I <em>knew</em> I could do… Chaton, how are you trying to do it?"</p><p>"—say the words and make magic happen?"</p><p>Her fingers tighten. "Lucky Charm uses the yo-yo," she says. "Directly, and Miraculous Cure indirectly. <em>Most</em> of our spells go through our weapons. Cataclysm and Second Chance <em>don't</em>."</p><p>Adrien flinches. Marinette gasps, her eyes leaking pained tears.</p><p>"—Sorry, I'm sorry—" How is Chat Noir to protect her when the one hurting her is <em>himself</em>? "What—"</p><p>"My back." Marinette straightens her spine with a grimace. "I'm okay."</p><p>The fuck she is, but—</p><p>Chat Noir thinks about the other time he wore this armor: how it felt to call Lucky Charm then, and to attempt Lucky Break now. And the other time he wore armor that wasn't his own: how it felt to call Second Chance, and how it always feels to call Cataclysm.</p><p>"Lucky Break."</p><p>The earrings burn like lava, and his determination to see her healed blazes pink in his right hand.</p><p>"Are you <em>sure</em> I shouldn't use even a little on your back?" Chat Noir asks.</p><p>Marinette's smile is small and bittersweet. "You made me watch you jump off that game platform, minou. Payback time. Heal Tikki."</p><p>Not that Chat Noir fighting Ladybug would have done <em>either</em> of them any favors, no matter the outcome, but little as he can bear to see her in pain—</p><p>He focuses on the way the earrings looked on Ladybug's ears, on Marinette's, in his own bare hand—Tikki's sweet voice in the few moments he's seen her; the way she tried not to wince at either the taste or his notion of planning when he gave her the Camembert he had in his pocket for Plagg—</p><p>Under his hand, the smeared gray ashes of the Ladybug Miraculous flare white, and Marinette's dark cabochon earrings rest on the clean blue denim. A crackle—they startle—and the earrings are bright red again, spiderwebbed with fine cracks between the black spots.</p><p>Chat Noir tugs his hand out of hers and turns away. "Bunnyx?"</p><p>"Fluff, clockwise!" says Alix from the bathroom. A moment later, Bunnyx is in the living room, opening the Burrow.</p><p>Over the wall and through the skylight. Ladynoire is curled in the bed, almost exactly how he left Marinette. "Lucky Break," Chat Noir whispers, watching the pink-edged shadows fall over her closed eyes—she won't let him handle the injury he caused? fine, he won't let her at the rest of January ninth with this fever—and how she smiles at his touch.</p><p>Reclaim his ring. Return her earrings. "Plagg, claws out," he whispers.</p><p>"Tikki, spots on," she whispers at the same moment, sitting up. "Chaton."</p><p>Her eyes are open, and deep ocean blue.</p><p>"I dreamed you were Adrien," she tells him, bleary-eyed. "Please don't—" Ladybug swallows back the verb. "My heart can't take it."</p><p>"Ladybug—"</p><p>He wants—<em>she</em> wants the thing it is least possible for him to give—</p><p>"Smell good," she mumbles, leaning toward—</p><p>Does Ladybug want to <em>kiss</em> him?</p><p>Chat Noir slams into the zinc paneling next to Alix. Then into the carpeting of Chloé's living room.</p><p>Oh fuck now he has to actually take the ring off.</p><p>"Claws in," Adrien says. He leaves his fabric mask on, for whatever good that's going to do him, and snags Plagg in one hand and Carapace with the other. At the food table, he hands Plagg a chunk of Camembert. "I'll still pay for your cheese," he tells Plagg—he is not going to cry—and "If you <em>ever</em> give him an order," he tells Carapace—he is <em>not</em> going to cry—then "I will make you <em>regret</em> it."</p><p>Carapace looks rather like Chat Noir just bludgeoned him over the head. "Dude, <em>what</em>?"</p><p>"She wants to be done, remember? She won't want to entrust Tikki to anyone but me," Adrien points out. "Or your sweetheart, I guess, but apparently everybody thinks that's a bad idea?"</p><p>Plagg swoops up and nips Adrien on the nose.</p><p>"Ow!"</p><p>"Okay, dude, not that I'm not honored you'd trust me with Plagg," says Carapace, clapping Adrien on the shoulder, "but, one, if I get hold of Cataclysm I will <em>absolutely</em> go murder my best friend's old man and then drag my new brother home with me, my sweetheart and I settled that months ago. My friend deserves a much better family. And two, I think there's a couple questions you didn't bother asking here." He spins Adrien around to face the living room.</p><p>To face <em>Marinette</em>.</p><p>"Nobody's killing anybody," Marinette says, heading straight for the desserts with Tikki cradled to her cheek. "Please. Not that the world would be worse off if that man mysteriously vanished," she adds to Carapace. "But we're supposed to be better than that."</p><p>She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and pulls off her ragged cotton mask, then holds that arm out, a silent half request for a hug.</p><p>Adrien wants to engulf her in a fierce embrace, but her back isn't healed. He settles for nuzzling the side of her face, next to the dark cabochon of a disguised Ladybug earring.</p>
<hr/><p>"Sound off," murmurs Rena Rouge, watching the Agreste mansion gates on their flute screen and thinking longingly of last April. <i>Rose planted, Sunflower planted, Tulip planted</i>—Alya wasn't a superhero then. Not even part time. Just an aspiring investigative journalist doubling as an amateur <em>tabloid</em> blogger, who doesn't have the option of listing <i>video-documented the defeat of Hawkmoth</i> on their CV.</p><p>"Queen Bee says 'Perched on the north windowsill.' " It's Trixx's voice doing text-to-speech on the text Queen Bee sent the group chat via Pollen doing speech-to-text on words no one but Pollen—and Rena, were they in earshot—could hear; this is disconcerting, but saves Rena the effort of figuring out how to cast an illusion that's selectively audiovisual on <em>top</em> of being designed like cinnamon rolls in a baking pan so that shattering this stealth-cloak on any one of the heroes won't hurt the rest. (Between this Mirage and the one they cast against the Sapotis, when their <em>little sisters</em> were the ones in the most danger, Rena is going to have some more questions for Trixx later.) " 'No one in sight.' "</p><p>Which means not even Adrien.</p><p>Hawkmoth does not get credit for this kindness even if he intended it, Rena thinks, leaping over the wall to visually confirm Adrien isn't in the courtyard either, but the blank spots in akumatized people's memories are a mercy.</p><p>"Carapace says 'the door's already open'," Trixx continues: " 'saves having to sneak it open'." That probably just means whichever of the adults in that household discovered Adrien's absence didn't bother to close the bedroom doors again, since they can't lock Adrien in if Adrien isn't already <em>in</em>. "Chat Noir says 'we're ready when you are'." He isn't speech-to-texting, since no one but Marinette and Tikki is in earshot of him, but (for that same reason, he said) he isn't on comms either. "Arashi says 'On the west wall, ready to rumble'."</p><p>"Glad <em>someone's</em> punning," Rena tells them all. It's still concerning that neither Chat Noir nor Ladybug either feels or is willing to fake enough cheerfulness to try, but—</p><p>"Arashi says 'unintentional'. Chat Noir says angry face emoji." Flipping Rena's screen momentarily to the group chat shows the two messages are timestamped one second apart.</p><p>…great.</p><p>"I'm already filming," Rena says, grateful again that their nerves aren't shaking their camera. "I don't see anyone yet…okay, let's move."</p><p>An adjustment to Mirage means Rena should be able to open the front door, slip in, and almost close it behind them, without anyone the wiser unless someone is physically blocking the seemingly closed door. This would work better, Rena thinks (resisting the temptation to kick the locked door), if the knob were turning.</p><p>"Carapace says 'Gabriel and Nathalie are both in the atelier'," Trixx reports.</p><p>Rena nods. "I'm locked out." They should have gone in through Adrien's open window too. "Arashi?"</p><p>"Arashi says—oh, that's a YouTube link," says Trixx. "AC/DC 'Thunderstruck' official video." (Rena snickers, wondering where Chat Noir found this girl. They're definitely keeping her.) " 'Five. Four. Three.' "</p><p>Two, one: "Thunder Dragon!" they hear Arashi exclaim. Rena's camera doesn't pick up the dazzling flash Rena shades their eyes against, nor the sharp thunderclap that rattles their eardrums: that power surge should fry every circuit and electronic device in the building.</p><p>—They hope.</p><p>The lightning reforms into Arashi on the south wall. If anything catches fire, Wind Dragon or Water Dragon should put it out. It belatedly occurs to Rena that if there <em>are</em> any live wires, Water Dragon is a bad idea.</p><p>"The door's still locked," Rena tells the others.</p><p>"Carapace says, 'metal bolt to back up the electronic, probably'."</p><p>That makes sense. Rena darts left to film the atelier through its raindrop-spattered windows, not expecting to see much in the dim room. They can hear Gabriel speaking rapidly and sharply to Nathalie; Rena catches the names Khandakar and Pascal, then Adrien. "I should be able to hear much more than this," Rena mutters.</p><p>"Queen Bee says, 'You don't want to, it's infuriating. Utterly infuriating.' "</p><p>"I don't doubt that," Rena says, "but give me a moment anyway, I'm following you in."</p><p>The leap from ground level behind the mansion to the window Chat Noir told them has a broken lock is nothing whatsoever to a Miraculous wielder. Adrien probably broke the lock himself just so he would know he always had a way out of this gilded cage. Even if he <em>would</em> have to run any distance on a broken leg in order to use that escape route.</p><p>Carapace is leaning in the western corner of the atelier, Queen Bee pacing the northern corner: planned to minimize the risk of anyone colliding with either of them, since <em>that</em> Rena cannot illusion away. "Nathalie looks like she decided to run with the bulls and got trampled," Rena observes. It's the way she's holding herself: hardly a hair is out of place otherwise, and if she wore herself out last night and didn't get enough sleep or coffee since, then that will only help. "Gabriel doesn't look so hot either." He is standing facing the gaudy gold painting of Adrien's mother, though, where Nathalie might fall over if she rises from her desk chair. "I don't see anything that looks like either Miraculous. Or anything else of obvious interest. Carapace?"</p><p>"Carapace says 'me neither, but Rena, you'd button your shirts higher if you had that Miraculous full time'."</p><p>"Would not," mutters Rena, noting they didn't hear Carapace and unsure if that's what they intended, "but point taken—hey." Gabriel's moving to— "Did we know that painting swings out?"</p><p>"Queen Bee says 'No.' " Queen Bee herself moves closer, Rena zooming their camera in to watch Gabriel open the safe, though he is blocking Rena's view of the number pad. " 'Got the keycode.' "</p><p>"That gold symbol on the cover," Rena says. Gabriel's paging silently through the old leather-bound book, and if those images are the historical Miraculous wielders they look like, Rena wants the whole volume. "I didn't get a good look."</p><p>"Queen Bee says 'It might match the one from the Ladyblogger's guardians hypothesis video. Maybe.' Arashi says 'Is this the book Ladybug mentioned?' Carapace says 'no idea'."</p><p>Gabriel closes the book, the safe, the painting. Queen Bee darts backward before he crashes into her.</p><p>"Circumstantial evidence at best," Rena says, and gulps back the rising nerves. "Okay. Time to tempt him out."</p>
<hr/><p>When looking south-south-west from the nearest rooftop at what must be Hawkmoth's home base, most of the damage to their city is invisible: the edge of a scorch mark they'd see clearly if looking south, a line of caution tape across the street, one Firebug′ statue on the sidewalk behind the collège. (Firebug prime: derived from the original Firebug, the one who is integral to all of this. —Unfocused and unprofessional even now!) Closer to hand: forest green cotton lounge pants too thin for drizzling six-degree weather, the sole of one pink canvas shoe, and a borrowed pine green umbrella.</p><p>At the sound of Rena's text alert, Chat Noir glances at his baton screen. Time for their part, it seems. "Bug," he says gently.</p><p>The umbrella shifts to show the black hood drooped over her back.</p><p>"Last night," he tells her, watching her shoulders tense, "when I guess you decided to blow all the pressure at once, you told me to lie to you." Like the plan is she'll tell him now, if the akumafly doesn't come for her quickly enough. "I said we're going to lose." She gives a tiny nod. Chat Noir smiles. "You lit up like dawn at midnight."</p><p>"…thank you," Marinette says, small, and gets to her feet, folding the umbrella and setting it aside. Chat Noir stands as well, fingering the Marinette lucky charm in his pocket before getting out the strip of fabric she had him cut from his tee last night. As emotionally charged objects go, it's a distant third choice at best. Anything that was in her room is gone or not worth the impact of trying to find, and either nothing that was in the yo-yo pocket dimension she somehow sewed to the inside of her purse is accessible or, after he Cataclysmed her yo-yo, none of it currently exists. <i>I thought of my charm bracelet,</i> she said, cradling the napping Tikki. <i>Someone important made that.</i></p><p>"Ready?" he asks.</p><p>"No." She squares her shoulders. "Tikki, spots on!"</p><p>Magenta light flares over her from toes to crown. Ladybug doesn't turn to look as Chat Noir wraps the fabric of the mask loosely around her wrist and threads one end through the slits in the other, or as he steps back without leaning down to kiss the back of her hand. She doesn't see the kiss he blows her.</p><p>"Maman," Ladybug whispers. "Papa."</p><p>It does not surprise him that she is going for her own weakest spots first. Chat Noir folds his arms behind his back and seizes his tail: this is not—he agreed—something he ought to, may try to, or is able to protect her from, or to cushion the blows of.</p><p>He <em>agreed</em>.</p><p>"I wanted to keep you safe," she whispers. "I thought if you didn't know, you'd be safe. It didn't matter what you thought of me. Didn't matter you thought I wasn't good enough. Didn't even matter I was lying to you. You'd be <em>safe</em>."</p><p><i>We taught her to value honesty,</i> Tom Dupain told Firebug, moments before Sabine Cheng bought Chat Noir a few crucial seconds. <i>But we also taught her there are more important things.</i></p><p>"But you're not," their daughter whispers.</p><p>Ladybug, thinks Chat Noir, scanning the skies in all directions and seeing only thin fog, learned heroism from her parents.</p><p>"Alya," whispers Ladybug. "Juleka, Rose, Alix, Mylène—I'm such an awful friend. Selfish. Jealous. Clumsy. Inattentive. Possessive. Obsessive. Unreliable. <em>Untrustworthy</em>. You're taking pity on me, all of you—none of you wanted to hang out with me before Alya did, you only stick around because I bring you pastries and mend your clothes and <em>do</em> stuff for you, and it's not enough, it's never <em>enough</em>, I'm not <em>important</em> enough for you to see me <em>breaking</em>, you don't notice, you don't <em>care</em>, Lila's so much more fun to spend time with—Lila's just—Lila's just <em>better</em>."</p><p>Her breaths are loud and harsh. Chat Noir is distantly surprised to discover that if he clenches his hand tightly enough around his tail, the punctures his claws make hurt, though they do not bleed.</p><p>No butterfly.</p><p>"Kagami," whispers Ladybug. "I'm to you what Chloé is to Adrien, aren't I? You only stay with me because you don't have anyone better—just Adrien, but he doesn't count, does he?" Chat Noir's heart breaks. "I keep hurting you, but you have no one else. You deserve better. You deserve <em>more</em>." Her breath hitches. "At least Chloé's getting <em>better</em>."</p><p>Ladybug tries twice to snap her fingers. Sound or no sound, it's the signal he's watching for.</p><p>He doesn't want to do this.</p><p>"Chat Noir, this is not a game," whispers Ladybug. "You always treat it like it is—against Reflekta and Reflekdoll, you didn't say 'I deliver you from evil,' you said '<em>playtime's over</em>'! But this is not a <em>game</em>!"</p><p>"The best way to win," Chat Noir says, in his best imitation of the happy-go-lucky way he said this the first time, "isn't knowing how to play."</p><p>She'll remember his next line.</p><p>He pitches his voice a little higher: he needs to be Adrien right now, starry-eyed and naïve and convincingly artless. Not Chat Noir, no matter that his tail is trying to swish to spook his prey, or that his ears are twitching to listen for butterfly wings from any direction.</p><p>"These designs are <em>amazing</em>, Marinette!" Adrien tells her. "Why are you throwing these away?" This isn't last night word for word, and it shouldn't be—she doesn't know Chat Noir was there—but Marinette tossing out more designs than she keeps is common knowledge. Adrien's rescued some himself. "You should hold on to them for your portfolio. ESMOD admissions will <em>love</em> how you're balancing the red and black in this one."</p><p>Adrien stages the gasp of someone having a flash of insight. "These are Ladybug-inspired, aren't they? You should ask her about endorsing your designs! Or I will, if you're nervous," he adds, encouraging, helpful. "She'll love them. You'll get more commissions than you know what to do with!"</p><p>Ladybug stiffens, trembling. "I don't have <em>time</em> for that," she whispers.</p><p>This morning he woke her from a nightmare of losing her partner. <em>He</em> did that to her. He keeps <em>hurting</em> her like that, thinking that's what she needs from him! "That's okay, my lady," Chat Noir reassures her: his voice a little lower, a lot more carefree. "I'm giving you some extra time."</p><p>She pivots a quarter turn and, with her fabric-wrapped wrist, knocks the purple butterfly out of the air.</p><p>"Hawkmoth," says Ladybug. The violet-black light of his power bubbles over her: it's Firebug who faces Chat Noir, eyes closed, argon light from the butterfly mask glinting off the lip gloss she wasn't wearing. "The same bargain, with one more name in the safe zone? Are you <em>certain</em> that's your offer?"</p><p>She's smirking. Chat Noir, moving to slice through the cord of the charm bracelet around her wrist (familiar except for its coloring: red where Adrien strung yellow beads, black where he strung blue), hesitates.</p><p>"Do you know where your son is?" Firebug asks Hawkmoth. The Firebug′ on the sidewalk across the street pivots to face the Agreste mansion. "<em>I</em> have never wanted to hurt him. Did you take your aspirin, by the way? Adrien's been worrying about your heart health. —He worr<em>ied</em>, I should say."</p><p>Movement in the city streets.</p><p>"Naïve of him," says Firebug, "to think you have a heart."</p><p>Eight Firebugs′ launch themselves into the sky: they will land in a circle, it looks like, evenly spaced around where Hawkmoth lairs.</p><p><em>His</em> Firebug screams—piercing, shrill, heartbreaking—and stares at him, unseeing cobalt eyes and death-white face. The butterfly flaps free, its hue sparking off it and glowing, violet shadows bubbling around her and fading.</p><p>Eight Parisians on ballistic trajectories hit their parabolas' peaks and plummet. Even at this distance, Chat Noir recognizes Sabrina's favorite purple argyle vest.</p><p>Ladybug slumps into his arms, like a marionette with cut strings, or broken porcelain.</p><p>His heart—like ice. Like ice shattering.</p><p>The world narrows to two points of importance, two things he will die or slaughter to defend: Ladybug's heartbeat under his hand, too fast to match her too-fast breathing, and in his pocket, Marinette's lucky charm.</p><p>"<i>Chat Blanc—</i>"</p>
<hr/><p>"Nathalie, call my son's bodyguard," Gabriel snaps. Rena turns enough to see the withering glance Nathalie gives first her cracked, darkened phone, then that command; Gabriel doesn't. Nathalie stands with remarkably little falling over—no, she starts coughing, leans on the desk to stay upright: only Gabriel doesn't lunge to catch her before thinking better of it, though he does watch her impassively.</p><p>"Is it just me," murmurs Rena, "or is that a distinctly less angry sort of emotionless than he ever shows his son?"</p><p>"Carapace says, 'it's not just you'." A beat: " 'that slimy mulberry-eating poison-shitting—he fucked up Adrien's fifteenth birthday on <em>purpose</em>!' "</p><p>Yeah, Rena guesses he did.</p><p>The cough easing, Nathalie gets back on her feet and heads to the foyer. "Carapace, follow her," Rena orders, eyeing Gabriel, who is surveying the empty-looking room with his hands behind his back; Carapace rushes out the same door. "Arashi, Wind Dragon, Nathalie might be leaving the building."</p><p>"Arashi sends a tornado emoji," Trixx reports.</p><p>Gabriel pivots to the set of doors at the back end of the room. The space is marked <i>Storage</i> on the floor plans Markov copied when he copied the electrical wiring layout map Arashi studied this morning, so it's not till they hear the door lock behind Gabriel that Rena realizes something's wrong.</p><p>"That back set of doors <em>is</em> just storage, right?" Rena checks, dashing over there.</p><p>Queen Bee startles from her intent examination of the gaudy painting and glares at the offending doors. Violet light flares through the cracks: possibly still <em>circumstantial</em>, Rena thinks, even <em>if</em> they can convince anyone that flash on the footage is part of a Miraculous transformation without <em>demonstrating</em>.</p><p>"Carapace says 'Nathalie is complaining about the backup generator, I think that's where she's going'," Trixx says: " 'guess Arashi toasted—<em>oh fuck there's missiles</em>'." Half a heartbeat: "Queen Bee says 'Athéna Polias.' "</p><p>"<em>Missiles</em>," Rena repeats. And gulps. "We still have a mission. Trixx, text Max to go over those floor plans, just in case that storage closet isn't." Hawkmoth hasn't gone anywhere, if it does go anywhere: Rena can hear him muttering. Or not muttering; what sort of soundproofing does this building <em>have</em>? "Carapace, be ready to cast Shellter over the whole complex. The last thing we want is for Hawkmoth to get away."</p><p>"Queen Bee says, 'Should I open that safe?' " While Rena's considering, Trixx adds, "Arashi says 'Don't, unless Mirage will mean it doesn't look open.' "</p><p>"Good thinking, Arashi," Rena says. "Queen Bee, good idea, bad timing. The safe will still be there later."</p><p>A sharp nod tells Rena that Queen Bee isn't happy but won't protest. She turns away from the painting to glance out the window—</p><p>"SABRINA!"</p><p>Rena leaps to the other window. Someone's falling—too tall to be Sabrina, hair too bright: Rena thinks it's Kim's girlfriend Ondine—</p><p>Human limbs don't bend that way.</p><p>"The Firebug statues," Queen Bee manages, turning to face the room, swaying. "She was supposed—Arashi, something's <em>wrong</em>—"</p><p>Ladybug was supposed to catch the butterfly on its way in to her.</p><p>Hawkmoth is still in that closet, muttering words Rena is prevented from hearing. Rena hasn't seen the butterfly on its way out—</p><p>He bursts back into the room, <em>bare sword</em> in hand—Rena leaps back from his ill-aimed slash: why in the name of all that's holy did no one know that's—</p><p>—that's easily twenty centimeters of sharp metal sticking out of Queen Bee's back.</p><p>Hawkmoth withdraws his stained blade from her chest, smirking down at the pale, gasping girl collapsed at his feet, plainly visible as the orange smoke of a burst Mirage fades. "I control the <em>Butterfly</em>, child," he tells her, or tells Ladybug, argon mask glowing over his own face.</p><p>Rena has to record this. Rena doesn't want to see this. If Rena gets close enough to even attempt first aid—not that they know how—Rena will be a visible target in striking range. And no one's answering their prayers.</p><p>"My predecessors shaped their champions from loyalty and hope as well as anger and pain." Hawkmoth turns, slow arrogant steps toward the foyer doors, toward <em>Rena</em>. "Did you think I don't know each emotion rising in my presence?" Rena has the horrible suspicion that this 'vous' is plural, not formal. "Did you think I would not notice your sidekicks' determination?" he asks Firebug, head tilted for his condescending gaze to pierce the empty air a half meter from Rena's head. "Your partner's self-loathing? Your <em>fear</em>?"</p><p>"Chat Noir says, 'What happened there?' " Trixx relays.</p><p>"Hawkmoth stabbed Queen Bee," Rena says, shaky. "What happened <em>there</em>?"</p><p>The wind shrieks outside with Arashi's rage. Hawkmoth's head snaps up: he rushes past Rena to the foyer, shouting "<em>Nathalie</em>!"</p><p>Blazing snow-glare, gale-force chill—Rena screams "INCOMING!"</p><p>"<em>Shelter the building!</em>" roars Chat Noir: red and black and white too fast to see.</p><p>"<em>Shellter</em>!"</p><p>"Lucky <em>Charm</em>!"</p><p>Green: they're flying backward. Hot thundering silver. The sound of heavy rain.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Epigraphs are courtesy <a href="https://muccamukk.dreamwidth.org/profile"></a><a href="https://muccamukk.dreamwidth.org/"><b>muccamukk</b></a> and several <a href="https://poetry.dreamwidth.org/profile"></a><a href="https://poetry.dreamwidth.org/"><b>poetry</b></a> community members.<a id="random09" name="random09"></a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. can't quite hold, but can't let go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In their essence, phenomena get simpler:<br/>wood burns, water freezes, all matter rots,<br/>either you love me or you don't.</p><p>—<i>excerpted from</i> "<a href="https://poetry.dreamwidth.org/274735.html">Either/Or</a>", Pentti Holappa tr. Herbert Lomas, in <i><a href="https://smile.amazon.com/Tenant-Here-Selected-1977-1997-Ireland/dp/1901233472/">A Tenant Here</a></i><br/> </p><p>You want to know how you go crazy?<br/>One marble at a time.</p><p>—<i>excerpted from</i> "<a href="https://abrolosojos.blogspot.com/2012/04/arsonist-stood-up-in-court-and-said-by.html">the arsonist stood up in court and said</a>", Jeffrey McDaniel, in <i><a href="https://smile.amazon.com/Splinter-Factory-Jeffrey-McDaniel/dp/0916397793/">Splinter Factory</a></i></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"—Chat Noir! <em>Chat Noir</em>!"</p><p>He shakes himself and focuses. Ladybug's frightened eyes, blue as the heart of a star, and too much black-dotted red: she's half collapsed in his arms with her yo-yo in her hand and her fabric mask around her wrist, he's on one knee on cool stone, Marinette's lucky charm feels wrong in his palm.</p><p>Jade and turquoise beads lie fragmented on the gray marble floor.</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Chat Noir collects the shards of the gift Ladybug should never have needed to break, of the talisman the akuma should have been nowhere near, and tucks them into his pocket. "Someone important made that," he says distantly, hardly recognizing the sound of his own voice.</p><p>They're under a Lucky Charm umbrella, two of its spokes resting on the floor. Around the marble oval of its shadow, the mansion and garden and courtyard walls are shattered rubble, green-tinged from Shellter's glow. Ladybug folds the umbrella: meters away, another is open, Hawkmoth holding it shield-like and rising to his feet, scanning the battlefield even as Chat Noir is doing; the clear packaging of the umbrella two-pack is pinned under the wreckage of one of Adrien's arcade consoles. Outside the Shellter, Carapace is slowly getting to his feet; further around its perimeter, Rena Rouge is filming, fog swirling around them. A gust flashes back into Arashi in solid flesh, kneeling next to Queen Bee, who's lying fetal on the ground. He can see no one farther.</p><p>A meter behind the untouched space where Hawkmoth sheltered: black jacket, scarlet turtleneck collar, tight black hair bun, spreading crimson.</p><p><i>He broke the moon,</i> he heard Marinette whisper. <i>He was so lonely, Plagg, he was hurting so <strong>much</strong>—</i></p><p>"Did I do this?" asks Chat Noir.</p><p>"<em>No</em>." Ladybug may never have spoken so definitively in her life: not <i>we can't lose hope</i>, not <i>I'd never want to lie to a friend</i>, not even <i>we'll do everything in our power to keep you safe</i>. No, Chat Noir did not do this. "No, Chat Noir, not you. Adrien never said the security system had <em>missiles</em>," she adds, wavering and sour.</p><p>Adrien didn't <em>know</em> the security system had missiles. Not that it matters now. Hawkmoth's going to his knees beside Nathalie, shoulders slumped like on the Tour Eiffel, moments after Mayura convinced him to take her aid.</p><p>How long was that after Hawkmoth told them he had nothing to lose? Two minutes? One and a half?</p><p>Hawkmoth vaults back to his feet, discarding the umbrella—fuck, that is a <em>sword</em> cane, with blood on the blade—</p><p>"Stay back!" Chat Noir snarls, at Hawkmoth and at Carapace or Rena or whoever it is moving in Chat's peripheral vision. Left arm supporting and shielding Ladybug, right hand a warn-off: he smirks, vicious. "Unexploded ordnance."</p><p>"Chat Noir—" says Rena Rouge.</p><p>Ladybug twists to face them. "<em>Carapace</em>!" Her voice cracks like thunder. "Hold the shield." Then she falls against Chat Noir's shoulder, breathing too hard.</p><p>Why is Hawkmoth hesitating? Or is he simply moving slowly? (Nathalie <em>did</em> notice Gabriel was having symptoms last night—)</p><p>Not that important. "Do you want to die today?" Chat Noir demands of him. "Because I am <em>happy</em> to oblige."</p><p>Hawkmoth smirks, a hair short of the <i>I know something you don't know</i> grin Chat Noir remembers from the Tour Eiffel, from Hawkmoth asking how they knew his wish wouldn't benefit everyone. "<em>You</em>, little house kitten? Do you have the nerve?"</p><p>Chat Noir can feel the growl rising in his throat. He props his wrist on his knee—the better to maintain the threat with, my dear: itself a show of weakness, he knows—and meets Hawkmoth's cold eyes with a glacial stare. "Come closer and find out."</p><p>Ladybug closes her yo-yo with a click. "Dead men can't stand trial," she reminds him, a spark of heat in her voice.</p><p>He knows. They discussed this. Arashi pointedly observed that suffocation, drowning, electrocution, and stabbing are all good ways to get dead.</p><p>Then Hawkmoth tore the butterfly from Firebug's bracelet, and Ladybug screamed like he was ripping the breath and soul from her body.</p><p>"Dead men can't hurt you anymore, Buguinette," Chat Noir says, without taking his eyes from Hawkmoth's. "You'll be happier if he lives; fine. That's not the part I care about. I'll be happy if you're happy." He twitches both cat ears as though to listen to his team, as though to listen to everyone in Paris, and continues, "Dead men can't hurt any of you anymore."</p><p>"Ah, but I hardly need to hurt you, do I, children?" says Hawkmoth, sheathing his sword with what Chat Noir would think a pleased expression if it looked less like Gabriel showing Adrien that he is not disappointed in his son today. "I do not even need to fight you. I only need to <em>wait five minutes</em>."</p><p>Tikki has been paying less and less attention to that safety guideline for her own sake, Chat Noir suspects. Last night Plagg point blank ignored it. Trixx has been well bribed with cherry clafoutis, Pollen with baklava, Longg with spicy chicken, and Wayzz with matcha and the promise of matcha macarons from Tom &amp; Sabine's. Whether Nooroo or Duusu ever told Gabriel or Nathalie about the guideline or not, it seems probable that neither Hawkmoth nor Mayura has ever cared—which means for all Hawkmoth has been trying to wear them down with three M. Pigeon attacks disrupting their lives every week since Heroes' Day, attacks Hawkmoth launched before (Chat Noir suspects) Gabriel went back to work or to bed, it's far more likely that Nooroo at least is close to their limit than that Plagg or Tikki is.</p><p>Ladybug braces herself on Chat Noir's shoulder, tries to stand, wobbles, fails: she falls back to his thigh, jarring his ankle, and he pulls her closer, trying not to pay attention to the hairline fractures on her earring. "Hold the shield," Ladybug repeats.</p><p>The sound of helicopter blades overhead. Hawkmoth's gaze jerks upward, startled. Chat Noir checks in all directions—outside the Shellter, he sees only three arguing teammates, one fallen one, and the fog, and he hears only the light pattering of the rain; inside, no one seems to live but himself, his partner, and their mortal enemy—maybe an akumafly, if that's what that flicker of motion is; if Hawkmoth sends <em>another</em> akuma, Chat Noir will kill him now, pray Miraculous Cure won't work on him, and beg Ladybug's forgiveness later—and Ladybug is beginning to shiver, pressing against him to borrow some warmth.</p><p>She looks around and swallows, once, twice, and nods, leaning just far enough away to watch his expression. "Chat Noir," Ladybug says, quiet and firm, commanding the city's attention. "You know I wouldn't ask this if I thought we had another choice. You know I love you too much to ask this of you."</p><p>The words <i>I love you</i> ring in his ears and echo through the cold hollow inside his chest.</p><p>Ladybug lifts her head as though to kiss his cheek: "Even bluffing," she whispers.</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Still. "I love you too," Chat Noir tells her, meaning <i>I'll do anything you ask me</i>, because she has never wanted to hear him say <i>I love you</i>. "What do you need?"</p><p>A comfortable shoulder to lean on, apparently. "Do you remember," Ladybug says to him, riveting again, meant to be heard, "how Ngyì Shiaémuao died?"</p><p>…No?</p><p>"Who?" asks Hawkmoth, hurriedly smoothing his expression from bewilderment back to confidence. He's using the cane to support some of his weight, Chat Noir notices. Gabriel has never needed to before.</p><p>Ladybug turns her head to fix him with her cool anger. "The Ladybug of Wēnzhōu. I don't know," she says, focusing now on Rena's camera, "if I am able to cast Miraculous Cure this time. Not without dying."</p><p>Chat Noir clutches her close, one-armed. Arashi howls: muffled, inarticulate pain.</p><p>"My partner can, I'm sure," Ladybug continues, again to Hawkmoth, "but why he would choose to revive <em>Mayura</em>, I don't know. And it might be a kindness to your son to leave him where he is!" Hawkmoth blinks. Ladybug doesn't pause: "I <em>know</em> you never told him anything. If you had, we would have stopped you sooner, because you would have <em>broken</em> him sooner. Adrien has always thought the world of you, Gabriel, and I don't know why, because as hard as you've worked to break him of this unsightly weakness, <em>Gabriel</em>, Adrien is <em>kind</em>."</p><p>"Do you hate this boy so much," muses Hawkmoth, smirking, "that you would subject him to the misery and derision of people who believe your absurd claim?"</p><p>"Oh, for fuck's sake, this again?" Chat bursts out. It's almost amusing. "The 'it's all your fault not mine, Ladybug' thing was bullshit the first time too!" And she's more right than he wants to admit. "Anyway, that's an awful lot of explosives in the Agreste mansion for someone who's never done anything illegal, immoral, or unfashionable."</p><p>Ladybug stifles a snicker, then sobers. "Maybe one of my teammates could cast Miraculous Cure," she says. "<em>Maybe</em> Paris would get back up without a scratch. I wouldn't bet on it." She doesn't even flick an apologetic glance their way. "None of them have a fourth the experience Chat Noir and I do—and that's not their fault, it's mine."</p><p>She would never consider trusting Hawkmoth even for a millisecond, Chat Noir knows.</p><p>"So you surrender?" asks Hawkmoth, looking down on them with a cool smile. He extends one hand.</p><p>"Never." Ladybug's voice burns with all the anger she has had to stifle and all the passion she has had to refocus in order to protect what's hers from him. "My death's too much victory for you already, and I would sooner see my Miraculous <em>ashes</em> than in your hands."</p><p>Oh.</p><p>"Oh no," Chat Noir hears Arashi say, soft and distant. Chat Noir himself—is somehow unsurprised.</p><p>"Once upon a time," Chat Noir begins, trying to speak as though he thinks Ladybug's stated plan is reasonable, as though he has confidence, has <em>hope</em>, "the Black Cat of Wēnzhōu turned Cataclysm on Wēnzhōu's Ladybug." He uses the English phrase for his own predecessor, and <i>Coccinelle</i> as Ladybug said. The power of destruction bubbles cool in his palm, facing Hawkmoth. "My, I wonder how Ngyì Shiaémuao died?"</p><p>Hawkmoth frowns.</p><p>Ladybug turns in Chat Noir's embrace: he'd call it 'snuggling up' if it weren't—this. He's still on the ball of his left foot, ready to leap, but it's never a comfortable pose to hold long; he sits. "Here's the deal," Chat Noir says. "Option one, you toss the Butterfly Miraculous over here. Peacock Miraculous too, if you can find it in the next three minutes; otherwise you tell us where we'll find it after Miraculous Cure. If there's anything else of interest to us, you'll give us that too, and you and Mayura both will surrender to the police. Notice the bit where in option one Mayura is alive."</p><p>Hawkmoth's gaze flicks to where Nathalie lies still.</p><p>"Option two…" Chat Noir runs his left thumb gently over Ladybug's arm. Whatever <i>broke the moon</i> means, Ladybug probably noticed it just by going down that rabbit hole and looking up. That means Cataclysm can be area-effect. He smirks: "Boom."</p><p>Distantly he hears Rena Rouge's shriek.</p><p>"Am I to believe," says Hawkmoth with a parody of a caring smile—Adrien has seen Tom Dupain look at his daughter; he knows better— "that you would sooner destroy the girl you love and the city she loves than let me help you? What man truly loves a woman if he does not go to any lengths for her?"</p><p>Oh.</p><p>So this was about Adrien's mother all along.</p><p>"My parents are dead," Chat Noir says, hearing his voice grow louder. "My mother did not live long enough to know me by this name. She <em>also</em>—" (because Carapace said it, <em>Ladybug</em> said it, he doesn't know of any third plot but he's wondering if that means he missed something) "—never beat me with a walking stick," as Hawkmoth did on Heroes' Day, "<em>never</em> threatened my friends," as Hawkmoth targeted them, as Hawkmoth targeted Adrien's whole class <em>because</em> it's Adrien's class, "<em>never</em> locked me in my room to wonder if I'd ever see the sky again!"</p><p>Does Hawkmoth even <em>know</em> what Sandboy proved his son's worst nightmare is?</p><p>Ladybug threads her fingers through those of Chat Noir's left hand and squeezes. Chat Noir breathes.</p><p>"My father—" Chat Noir breathes. "—well, let's say he <em>did</em>." He regards the back of his right hand, the ring, the power bubbling there. He knows what he's implying. "I can get out of anything now."</p><p>Queen Bee whispers, "Oh."</p><p>Because it's true, Chat Noir adds, quieter, but not so quietly Paris won't hear, "I still love him. And maybe you haven't noticed," though he knows Hawkmoth <em>has</em>, "but I'm a lot less patient with people who hurt my lady than with people who only hurt <em>me</em>."</p><p>"This is about your wife, isn't it." Ladybug's not looking at anyone; with how she's tucking herself against Chat's shoulder, she can't be. But her voice is clear. "You want Émilie back. But you don't want to lose Nathalie in the process. I'm not sure about Adrien."</p><p>Hawkmoth snarls, unsheathing his sword—</p><p>(Chat Noir's staff can grow forty meters in under a second: whether it gains mass or loses density seems to vary by what he needs, so since his claws can rend Ladybug's armor, his staff can <em>certainly</em> punch Hawkmoth's nose out the back of Hawkmoth's skull without Chat even needing to get up—)</p><p>—Ladybug knocks Hawkmoth's sword from his hand mid-lunge, wielding Chat Noir's staff from three meters away.</p><p>"What person truly loves, indeed," remarks Ladybug.</p><p>Hawkmoth grabs for the staff and (because it's half a baton again) misses, almost unbalancing before he recovers. "How <em>dare</em> you say I do not love my son!"</p><p>Chat Noir cannot hold back his smirk. "Says the guy who told us he had nothing left to lose, on Heroes' Day, when I know for a fact Adrien Agreste was out with a few other foolhardy Parisians, whacking akumas with a stick." And if Hawkmoth has lost track of which akumas saw whom that day, even a little, or if he never saw through their eyes in the first place—at least one of which seems likely—then that won't even give Chat Noir away. "Good thing your kid already figured out the only fuck you ever gave about him is the one that made him," Chat adds. Hawkmoth's look of increasing horror is a priceless sight. "Because if not, it would <em>suck</em> to be him when he watches this footage. Think he remembers drowning?"</p><p>(Adrien does not, because he has not. But the only reason Syren did not drown Adrien is Chat Noir has a better high jump.)</p><p>Ladybug noses under Chat Noir's chin, just above his collar. Comfort or praise, he's not sure, and not sure it matters.</p><p>Then she turns her head to watch Hawkmoth. "Sixty more seconds," she says. "Surrender, and everyone gets to live. Or—" She runs her hand along Chat Noir's arm, resting the tips of her right fingers on his right wrist. "Don't."</p><p>(Chat Noir knows what Ladybug is doing. He <em>does</em>. He trusts her, he <em>believes</em> in her—)</p><p>(Chat Noir opens his baton to type, left-thumbed, a text he doesn't want to send.)</p><p>"Chat Noir!" That's Carapace, protesting. "Ladybug—"</p><p>"<em>Hold the shield!</em>" shouts Chat Noir, in unison with his lady.</p><p>Hawkmoth looks toward Nathalie, then at Ladybug and Chat Noir with pleading eyes more white than ice blue. "I would be able to wish for what <em>you</em> want, too," he says, voice beginning to tremble. "Love? Success? World peace?"</p><p>And this a man with empathy powers? "Look," snaps Chat Noir, "at this point Autumn Peltier, Greta Thunberg, or Malala Yousafzai could come ask to borrow our Miraculouses to wish for <em>world peace</em>, and I'd ask myself when the fuck she sold out."</p><p>"Funny," says Ladybug, almost amused, "I was going to say 'making it so your rivals, your son, and your Bangladeshi sewists would never <em>want</em> to do anything you might dislike' is an odd way to spell 'world peace'."</p><p>Chat Noir shudders.</p><p>(He does not, and he is not sure he wants to, remember the important parts of the Dark Cupid battle. But that photo Nadja Chamack showed them? It told him—well, first it told him he missed something meaningful. Then it said important things about at least one of the photographer and the photo editor. Then—then it explained more than he ever wanted to know.)</p><p>(He had <em>wanted</em> to kill Ladybug. And if her distraction hadn't worked, she'd had no backup plan to stop him. Not even her hand on his shoulder to buy herself a moment to flee.)</p><p>Ladybug shifts again. "Rena Rouge, Carapace," she says, clear and distinct, "you're the best friends I could ever ask for." (Chat Noir glances over, just a little. Carapace, Arashi, Chloé, and Carapace's shield are concealing most of Rena Rouge from sight: all of them but two brown hands, still holding their filming phone, and one torn jeans knee. Arashi's expression is unreadable; Carapace is hiding his; Chloé's eyes are on Chat Noir and Ladybug, unfocused, and there's pink froth staining her blouse.) "Arashi, Ryūko—you deserve so many better friends than me. Queen Bee—" She sniffles. "I am so, so proud of you. My team, my friends—"</p><p>She doesn't say <i>my city</i>. She would never say <i>my people</i>. Chat Noir doubts he's the only one who hears it anyway.</p><p>"You're the <em>best</em>," she says.</p><p>(He <em>knows what she's doing</em>—)</p><p>Quietly, for Chat Noir alone, Ladybug says, "I am so sorry, chaton. You deserve so much better than anyone ever gave you. Especially me."</p><p>"Don't say that," Chat begs. "Don't <em>say</em>—you know what I would have done if I'd never met you?" She doesn't, of course; he hasn't really even told Plagg this. She makes a curious noise. "Run," Chat Noir says. "And kept running. And not stopped until I got somewhere he couldn't drag me back."</p><p>The last thing he wants to say right now is that <i>somewhere</i> might have meant <i>the other side of death's door</i>.</p><p>But then, most places, most of the time, that door doesn't revolve.</p><p>"You're several of the best parts of my life," says Chat Noir to Marinette. "Most of the best parts," says Adrien to Ladybug.</p><p>He does not dare look at her properly. He doesn't want to tell her it's been more than sixty seconds.</p><p>Ladybug lets herself relax, fully, trustingly, into his half embrace. "Do it," she says.</p><p>Chat Noir sends the text. <i>I want to destroy Hawkmoth and Mayura,</i> he thinks, not sure it's praying. <i>Then Ladybug and me. Not anyone else—</i> He doesn't think the Gorilla is here. But he doesn't know. <i>—and not any of the Miraculouses and <strong>nothing</strong> outside Shellter.</i> If Carapace is unable to hold it—and he belatedly realizes there is no way that text won't remind Nino of how Enzo died—if Chat Noir's power even comes close to touching Carapace's—</p><p>Well. Then of the Miraculouses in range, possibly only the Cat will make it through halfway intact, before Bunnyx goes digging.</p><p>(He hopes repairing the Miraculouses, making sure Plagg doesn't lose Tikki again, is as far as Bunnyx will dig. He hopes she, they all, will take the end of Hawkmoth's reign of terror as <em>enough victory</em>.)</p><p>None of that will be Chat Noir's problem.</p><p>Ladybug wants to be free of the burdens and responsibilities and pain that Hawkmoth, that Paris, that Chat Noir himself have caused her?</p><p>Chat Noir will free her.</p><p>
  <i>I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.</i>
</p><p>The Cataclysm bubbling in his palm still faces Hawkmoth: no wonder their bluff didn't work. Bracing his heart, Chat Noir moves.</p><p><i>Be painless,</i> he prays, closing his eyes. <i>Be quick.</i></p>
<hr/><p>Rena rolls out of the dubious safety of concealment the instant they know their face is masked. They check their flute screen—still filming: there might be some interesting jump cuts in the raw footage but the recording will be continuous—and press a hand to the Shellter barricade. "Carapace," they hiss, "let us through!"</p><p>"You saw her texts!" Carapace whispers back. Rena <em>did</em>—the chat is still on their screen, even:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Queen Bee:</i> I'll be LESS fine if <span>🦋🟪 🦚🟦</span> get away!</p>
  <p><i>Ladybug:</i> cn maybe bigger danger than hm atm</p>
  <p><i>Ladybug:</i> HOLD SHIELD, DO NOT LET HM RUN</p>
</blockquote><p>—and there are several obvious reasons to keep everyone on the side of the shield they're on: Whatever Hawkmoth did while Ladybug and Chat Noir were out of Rena's line of sight, it plainly didn't leave Chat Noir the strength to stand, and Ladybug not even enough to sit, where Hawkmoth is on his feet, willing to fight.</p><p>The Butterfly wielder cannot self-akumatize, or—self-evidently—akumatize the dead, and no matter how injured and exhausted Ladybug and Chat Noir are, Rena thinks Hawkmoth knows that to target either again would be suicide at the other's hands. Anyone else within a hundred meters of here, however, might be akuma food—Rena themself, stomach-churningly feverish as though this chilly silver fog is dark barbecue smoke, certainly is—so if that fluttering akuma gets one more person in its reach, they're all done for.</p><p>And Carapace is still on his knees, abandoning even the small effort of staying standing in favor of concentrating on Shellter. If it broke at Lila's because he weakened it for Bunnyx to rescue Chat Noir, then it <em>will</em> break if he weakens it now, when their only sure way to keep Hawkmoth from running is for Arashi to drown him on dry land. <em>Arashi</em> might have said she's okay with that, but the way she's rubbing her thumb over Chloé's limp knuckles, other hand clenched on her sword hilt like a lifeline, tells Rena Ladybug wasn't wrong to want some other way.</p><p>"They're saying their <em>goodbyes</em>!" Rena whispers anyway. <i>Run, and kept running</i>—they have all failed Chat Noir, whoever he is, as badly as they have failed Ladybug.</p><p>Carapace is shivering. Rena sits down, the better for him to lean on, and keeps their camera steady, the better to bear witness.</p><p>Hawkmoth is standing tall, head held high, as though he thinks this is his moment of triumph, checkmate made all the sweeter for his opponents handing it to him by the black knight threatening, but unable to kill, his own queen. <i>Checkmate</i> is not from the Persian for <i>the king is dead</i>, no matter what everyone thinks. The king is <em>what</em>, Rena doesn't remember (Adrien prefers the inaccurate version), but Hawkmoth is plainly observing the devastated tears on Chat Noir's face and feeling pleased with himself, thinking the little smile and wink—if he saw these—that Ladybug gave Rena mean she is taking her toys and going home, with all the maturity and victory this childish response implies. Game over: Hawkmoth wins.</p><p>Ladybug turns as though she means to more comfortably fall asleep in her partner's arms, as Marinette has only once done in Adrien's. "Do it," she tells Chat Noir, two words that somehow ring with the same confidence as Ladybug's sarcastic applause the first time she spoke to Hawkmoth, when she made the promise she's telling her partner to fulfill and break in the same fatal move.</p><p>"Adrien is going to hate us," Rena Rouge realizes.</p><p>"Not us," says Arashi. Chat Noir is hesitating, perhaps, or too tired to move quickly. Hawkmoth's stance twitches, perhaps listening. Arashi continues, "<em>Our</em> family names are not Agreste."</p><p>The Cataclysm in Chat Noir's hand is facing Ladybug now: tension wracking his body, where she is relaxed, waiting to be relieved.</p><p>"Nor did he want them to be," mutters Carapace.</p><p>Hawkmoth shouts, "<em>Wait</em>!"</p>
<hr/><p>Chat Noir snaps his eyes open and his wrist back around. He's got time. Plagg hasn't signaled once.</p><p>"Wait," Hawkmoth repeats. He goes to his knees beside Nathalie. Reaches inside her jacket. Tosses something green through the air.</p><p>Ladybug snags Chat's baton off his waist to knock the brooch toward them. Halfway there, Chat thinks, watching it change at her touch from having nine blue-eyed green train feathers to five pink-eyed blue. But Hawkmoth is smirking: still up to something.</p><p>"Duusu," Ladybug murmurs, "come here, please."</p><p>The Peacock kwami flits out from behind Nathalie and vanishes, feathers quivering, into Ladybug's shoulder, next to where she pinned this silver-tone brooch with seven black-eyed pink feathers. Ladybug pulls a face (does Tikki never hide inside Marinette's lung? Adrien's lung is one of Plagg's favorite places) and repeats "Duusu?" The kwami doesn't reappear. Ladybug shrugs, turning her attention to Hawkmoth. "Yours too," she says, louder.</p><p>"On one condition."</p><p>Because Hawkmoth is really in a position to be setting terms. "No promises," says Chat Noir.</p><p>"Chaton." Ladybug—is that disappointment? Gods no—Ladybug stares Hawkmoth down. "What do you ask?"</p><p>"I want," Hawkmoth says, "to tell my son <em>why</em>. Face to face."</p><p>Chat Noir knows what they say about curiosity and cats. "What makes you think he wants to know?" he demands, in no mood to hear their listeners' riposte about satisfaction.</p><p>"Swear you will give me the chance to tell him in person," Hawkmoth says, one hand hovering near his Miraculous, "and I'll surrender my Miraculous."</p><p>"I won't make that promise on his behalf," Ladybug answers. "Considering my teammates suspect Adrien went to help with the first fire at Place des Vosges last night and then got caught in the second one, both of which <em>you</em> caused, I won't be surprised if he never wants to hear another word you ever say."</p><p>Well, she's not wrong.</p><p>"I will promise to tell him what you asked for," Ladybug continues, "in exchange for your Miraculous. What he does with your request is up to him."</p><p>Hawkmoth's eyes narrow. "I will not tell anyone <em>but</em> my son any of my reasoning. He may share what he likes with whom he likes; I will only tell him."</p><p>"Agreed," snaps Chat Noir. Intent may matter in courts of law, but not enough to let Gabriel Agreste out of ten thousand life sentences. "Toss it here. Now."</p><p>Ladybug glances at Chat, then nods to Hawkmoth. "Agreed."</p><p>Hawkmoth sighs. (Chat wonders vaguely which bit of what he's up to they just short-circuited.) "Dark wings," Hawkmoth says, "fall."</p><p>"Could he <em>get</em> more pretentious," Chat stage whispers to Ladybug, as purple light flashes over Hawkmoth, leaving the Butterfly kwami hovering beside Gabriel Agreste.</p><p>(Who is easily ten centimeters shorter than he was as Hawkmoth. Chat Noir dismisses his first thought—cis men, compensating; one Alix lecture on such jokes was enough—in favor of considering word plays on lesser purple emperors and imperious purple.)</p><p>"—Master?" asks the Butterfly kwami. "What—"</p><p>"Nooroo," interrupts Gabriel, taking first the tie, then the small round tie pin from his neck, "I renounce you." Then tosses the Miraculous, its pointed wings spread, to land on the fabric of the Lucky Charm umbrella by Ladybug's feet.</p><p>Chat Noir puts the back of his right hand at the small of his back—he can't look at what was almost his lady's death, he <em>won't</em>—and sags in relief.</p><p>Ladybug pins the Miraculous beside Chat Noir's bell, bright-eyed, with a smile for Nooroo when they flick back into the air, and braces one arm on his left shoulder to lean up and—</p><p>"Nooroo, right?" Chat asks, fumbling the bundle of goodies out of his pocket. Nobody had any idea what they or Duusu might want to eat, so he brought bite-sized variety. "What would you like to eat? Duusu, what about you?"</p><p>The Peacock kwami pokes their head back out of Ladybug's shoulder. Nooroo eats a corner of Plagg's cheddar toast.</p><p>"<em>Akuma</em>!" shouts Rena Rouge.</p><p>Fuck, they're right—</p><p>"Say 'Plagg, Nooroo, unify!' " hisses Ladybug, eyes on the violet shadows bubbling over Gabriel.</p><p>Chat Noir repeats that. <em>Here</em>, Ladybug, piano motif cheerful if fumble-fingered, played too slow to be triumphant: <em>there</em>, Gabriel, organ notes shrilling frenzy and booming fury, his focus partly on the sword Chat Noir drops, the Butterfly's familiar-strange power melding with Gabriel's bleeding human magic: Adrien remembers Mme. Mendeleiev pouring room-temperature hydrogen peroxide into manganese dioxide powder, and moments later showing them the dark powder suspended in heated water, the oxygen having fled—</p><p><em>This</em>, how to strip the butterfly bearing Nooroo's magic from what were Gabriel's glasses; <em>thus</em>, how to release the butterfly from Nooroo's power.</p><p>Chat Noir (Chat Violet?) stares at Gabriel Agreste as the white butterfly flutters off. "The fuck did you think that would accomplish?" Discordance: fists slammed on organ keys. "—Never mind, I don't want to know."</p><p>The hell of it is, the man must <em>still</em> have a card or three up his sleeve. The Ladyblog is about to broadcast his name, face, and crimes to the world, and the music of Gabriel Agreste's emotions—now not Bach's 'Wedge' but not dissimilar—still sounds confident he has not yet lost.</p><p>"So how are you <em>really</em> feeling?" Chat asks Ladybug, more to ease their teammates' jangling nerves than his own. Her emotional melody may be lethargic but it's key of D: exultant if she weren't falling over, counterpoint in the parallel minor or no. They each already have half his baton, so they each get a walking stick; Chat Noir's certainly going to need one. (He liked dealing with Miraculer better than this. He really did.)</p><p>"I want a vacation." If Chat didn't already know how badly she needed at least a month free of cares, Ladybug's tone of voice alone would tell him. (<em>Is</em> she disappointed? Look, she could celebratorily kiss anyone she liked—Luka's at the hotel, or if she's really okay with skipping the romance part, Rena Rouge, Carapace, Queen Bee, and maybe Arashi might need to rock-paper-scissors or arm-wrestle for who's the first to volunteer—) She picks up the umbrella, too. "How does Morocco sound?"</p><p>"Martinique," Chat Noir counter-proposes. Steadying each other as they stand won't work so great when neither has free hands. He's not sure about imposing on Alya's relations any more than on Nino's, but what the hell, why not daydream. "Tropical beaches." Or subtropical, if Kagami suggests Miyazaki, which, from the sound of that Haydn-like trio in E, she might.</p><p>"Sunshine," Ladybug agrees wistfully, bracing staff and umbrella on the marble and rising beside him. "Blue skies. <em>Warm</em>. I'm good for the Cure, chaton, don't worry."</p><p>She is confident that's the truth. "—Are you sure?" he asks. After all, she said—and those jarring notes agree—it might kill her this time. She said—and that minor harmony agrees—she doesn't <em>know</em>.</p><p>"I'm sure." (He is not entirely reassured.) "And Carapace looks like he wants a break, so I don't want to take time to figure out how to hide long enough to swap Miraculouses." Then she frowns, glancing pointedly behind him, where he's still holding Cataclysm. "Aren't you going to do something with that first?"</p><p>"What, this?" Chat Noir scans the battlefield, reorienting himself. Most of their immediate surroundings can stay trashed, for all he cares. Rena Rouge is still filming, though Rena's paying more attention to whatever they're saying to Carapace and Arashi, and who knows who the helicopter news crew is with. The fog outside the Shellter is giving way to rain. He glances up to where the family portrait above the staircase was and will be. "Do your thing, Ladybug. I bet somebody's wanted to burn that ugly black painting for a while."</p><p>Ladybug snorts with amusement. "Yeah. Me." She shifts her weight more onto his staff in order to lift the umbrella. "Miraculous Ladybug!"</p><p>"Sabrina!" Chloé shouts, frantic clarinet, almost before the sparkling ladybugs have whisked her back upright. She bolts for the front door, body-slamming it open: "<em>Sabrina</em>!"</p><p>"Queen Bee!" shouts Chat Noir after her.</p><p>His staff falls from Ladybug's hand—a minor third chord—and clatters to the marble floor. Ladybug's knees fold, her head striking him in the stomach.</p><p>"My lady?" He's caught her one-armed, though it took him back down too. What's—</p><p>Modulating to G major, softening, slowing: he knows what she remembers, when she last felt like this:</p><p>
  <i>"I'm sorry, Chat Noir. That must have been an awful nightmare." She paused, her limbs too heavy and sore to reach out. "This whole night must have been a nightmare."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Not your fault," muttered the most treasured voice in her world.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"If you say so." She wanted, so badly, to believe him. She had always wanted to believe every encouraging word he ever said. But this time…</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Yeah, LB, I say so." Not surly, however that sounded; she knew him better than that. "Go back to sleep."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"I tried." A longer pause. He needed rest at least as much as she did. "Um. Could you hold me till I fall asleep?"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"What? Why?"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Please, chaton."</i>
</p><p>"No, no, no, no," Chat Noir chants. She doesn't know something's wrong, she doesn't feel anything's <em>wrong</em>— "Luckbug—"</p><p>
  <i>Her partner's arms warm and strong around her. The soothing darkness of a blanket over her head.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Safe. Loved.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Never wanting to wake up.</i>
</p><p>"I thought we were bluffing," Chat Noir says, fumbling for her pulse with a hand too purple-armored to look like his own. She <em>said</em> they were bluffing—he doesn't know how her plan worked but it must have worked—she said she was fine, she was <em>sure</em> she was <em>fine</em>—blue fire, her eyes, her forever closed eyes—</p><p>Why isn't Miraculous Cure working on <em>her</em>?</p><p>(He knows why.)</p><p>(He <em>knows why</em>—)</p>
<hr/><p>Carapace lets Shellter fall the instant the Lucky Charm bursts into swarms of healing light. Rena Rouge is fastest into the repaired mansion, but only because Arashi grabs Chloé on her way out and pulls Queen Bee back in with her.</p><p>"I thought we were <em>bluffing</em>," repeats Chat Noir to Ladybug, sprawled limp on his lap like she's sleeping: a broken sob. His attention snaps to Gabriel, helping Nathalie sit up; he whips his hand toward them, Cataclysm boiling. "I <em>knew</em> you didn't think you'd lost yet!"</p><p>Rena signals Arashi to cover Gabriel, Queen Bee to Nathalie, and Carapace to the dining room, where the table and chairs can hide Nino long enough to feed Wayzz. Rena themself will talk to Chat Noir, or possibly tackle him, but he's shaking so badly that—</p><p>"What, did you think killing her would end <em>well</em> for you?" Chat Noir demands. His staff halves click together in his left hand. "Did you think I'd hand you our Miraculouses and <em>trust</em> you to wish her back?"</p><p>Gabriel glances at Nathalie, who's looking around blankly, and smirks at Chat Noir. "You do not know the incantation, do you?"</p><p>"<em>Fuck you</em>!"</p><p>(This man, thinks Rena, knows about boiling fury, and explosive rage, and icy calm. How dangerous those can be. Glacier calving—it sounds like animals calving, so if Émilie Agreste never unleashed a mother's anger on her husband, Gabriel would think only of calfskin and veal. Not of avalanches and Arctic water and <em>breaking</em>.)</p><p>Chat Noir's standing again, unsteady even with the staff, Ladybug laid gently at his feet. Rena's behind him—they can't see the look in his eyes, only that Queen Bee flinches from it more than from the power spitting black sparks over a meter in every direction. "Whose life should I spend to buy hers?" he asks, volume rising. "Will it work to murder a random abusive parent? Or must it be someone else I love?"</p><p>Nathalie gets her other foot underneath her: Chat Noir knocks her off balance, to the floor, swings his staff back to crack over her ankle. Gabriel tries to rise: Chat Noir pins him to the white pillar.</p><p>"Maybe no one will die." Chat Noir leans on the other end of his staff, putting his weight on that bar between them, enough force concentrated in a circle three centimeters across to keep Gabriel's head level with Chat Noir's though Rena can see the man trying to stand. "But I'll be stuck with my father for the rest of my life."</p><p>Rena hears Gabriel's shoulder blade crunch, and thinks: event horizon.</p><p>"Will she forgive me?" asks Chat Noir, glacial, and laughs. "No, we do this her way." It's four steps to the pillar. "Mostly."</p><p>Cataclysm crackles through Gabriel's chest.</p><p>Chat Noir lets his hands drop; Gabriel crumples to the floor. "She's not like you."</p><p>When he turns away, Rena moves to block his path—what could they say? what is there for them to do?—and stares, winded, from next to the steps. Carapace charges out of the dining room—Chat Noir sends him skidding almost to the wall—</p><p>Violet-black and red blurs past and vaults into the gray rain, and Chat Noir and Ladybug are gone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLhcRshMVmc9kOXE46M0S_e8JzQgfkJOv-">YouTube playlist to illustrate Chat Violet's musically synesthetic empathy.</a> The parts that aren't Ladybug-focused, anyway; I'm working on fixing that, but it's a lot easier to find pieces that <em>don't</em> need a common melody at different speeds and across <a href="https://ledgernote.com/blog/interesting/musical-key-characteristics-emotions/">different keys</a> and with different harmonies than it is to find pieces that do. (Weird, that. <span>😛</span>)<br/> </p><p>If you have ever left a kudos on any of my fic, <em>thank you, I love you</em>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. carry me home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><a id="creturn11" name="creturn11"></a>sing that cold water<br/>I know so well,<br/>be that dark current<br/>I carry in my veins.</p><p>sing the winter water<br/>I've been promised,<br/>be that killing cold<br/>I was born in.</p><p>—<i>excerpted from</i> "<a href="https://poetry.dreamwidth.org/473892.html">Cold River</a>", <a href="https://gwenbenaway.com/about/">Gwen Benaway</a></p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry about the delay, folks; wanted to be sure the last few chapters would hit as hard as the rest, without dropping any of the balls I'm juggling here 😺 the irony being, if I'd posted once a week like I thought about doing but was too impatient to actually do, there wouldn't have been so huge a gap!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He doesn't know where he's going till he's there: Marinette's bedroom, Marinette's bed, soft optimistic pink accented with black. French 'noir' comes from Latin for night-colored. Latin's other word for the hue, 'āter', is related to Irish 'áith', kiln; it's the root of 'atrocity'. The color of what's left after fire.</p><p>She's not—she should sleep. She should get to sleep in her own bed.</p><p>He might vomit. Probably will. Not on her pink. The bathroom is—down, yes, down, turn, slam the door behind them against the sound of her parents' steps, of their hearts—he doesn't want to hear them, he doesn't want to <em>hear it</em>—</p><p>The mask in the mirror is violet-edged, with points like butterfly wings.</p><p>No <em>no</em>— "Plagg, Nooroo, split!" Useless. "Plagg, Nooroo, divide?"</p><p>The mask in the mirror is <em>violet</em>, over Adrien's green human eyes, Adrien's hair gelled back like Gabriel's—</p><p>Plagg presses himself to Adrien's cheek, as though he cares—no, not 'as though', he <em>does</em> care about Adrien, he just <em>shouldn't</em>—</p><p>The ring clatters off the shower tile.</p><p>Adrien retches and sobs into the sink, acid burning his throat. That croissant and espresso were hours ago: it's a wonder there's anything to come up. Anyway, he's already given her everything he has that matters—hollow as it was, hollow as he is—and it wasn't enough to mean she isn't lying dying at his feet. All he has left is this: nothing she wants.</p>
<hr/><p>Rena's not the fastest to react to Gabriel lunging for Carapace: that's Arashi, with a garnet sword that looks sharper than it did when last they looked.</p><p>"Ladybug and Chat Noir are trying to offer you <em>mercy</em>," Arashi tells Gabriel, gesturing coldly with her sword tip at the hole scorched through shirt, vest, and jacket. Nathalie notices the injury before Gabriel does: a palm-wide ring seared into the reddened skin over his heart, with five blackened dots inside and a straight line through.</p><p>Ladybug's signature.</p><p>Gabriel swallows convulsively.</p><p>"If either of you choose to reject that offer," says Arashi, merciless, "consider that people drown in storms."</p><p>Rena and Carapace exchange glances. Queen Bee eyes Arashi consideringly, then nods sharply. "That's Mayura?" she checks; when Rena nods, Queen Bee turns away and opens her top. "Emergency services, this is Queen Bee. We have apprehended Gabriel Agreste, also known as Hawkmoth, and Nathalie Sancoeur, also known as Mayura, at Gabriel Agreste's home." She gives the address. "Both are injured, but not life-threateningly; if Chat Noir meant to kill either of them, he would have aimed for their heads."</p><p>Nathalie leans forward, breathing in sharp little gasps, to tug on the leg of her slacks, baring what is visibly a shattered ankle. Gabriel starts to move towards her, hisses at his broken shoulder, and slumps back against the pillar.</p><p>"Please ask Paris to keep an eye out for Chat Noir and Ladybug," Queen Bee continues. "Contact the Ladyblog if you see them; the Ladyblog admins will contact us." Oh, that's a good idea. Rena needs to call Juleka. "Please do not approach them," Queen Bee continues, "for everyone's safety. I am not sure yet what happened, I was choking on my own blood for some of the important bits, but Chat Noir said Hawkmoth killed Ladybug." She laughs a little, starting to cry. "Is anyone surprised Chat Noir lost it?"</p><p>"She's not dead," Carapace interrupts, then winces and adds, "Yet."</p><p>"—Hang on," Queen Bee tells the dispatcher.</p><p>"Explain," orders Rena.</p><p>"Her eyes were closed." Carapace picks a patch of wall to lean against. "Nobody did anything to make her eyes stay closed. That is not how corpses work."</p><p>"I am going to regret asking this," says Rena—not that they even need to ask, really; even if the emergency dispatcher doesn't know whether that's true, the medical techs about to arrive will. "How do you know that?"</p><p>Carapace holds up Nino's phone. "Other highlights from January episodes of the 'My Brother, Why Are You Texting Me Morbid Shit After Midnight, Go The Fuck To Sleep' show include what is the bite force of an adult tyrannosaur, would tyrannosaur taste like chicken, how coronary artery disease leads to myocardial infarction—" (Gabriel drops his gaze to the floor) "—and is explosive decompression in the vacuum of space actually explosive." (Nathalie starts trembling.) "Which, it turns out, no it is not, for the same reason that if a teenage boy got thrown off the top of Tour Montparnasse, hitting the pavement would not make him go splat. Human skin's pretty tough, dude. But these are both closed-casket funerals." Carapace gives Gabriel another venomous glare. "There must be a reason people in this city have weird trauma responses like that."</p><p>He turns to Queen Bee, takes a deep breath, and continues, "So either Ladybug died <em>after</em> Chat Noir left with her, or she is not dead yet. Either way he's probably taking her to the hospital."</p><p>"Got that?" Queen Bee asks the dispatcher. "Good. They may get to medical care as their secret identities—she is a fifteen-year-old girl, looks white, black hair, blue eyes, about one hundred fifty centimeters; he is a sixteen-year-old boy, looks white, blond hair, green eyes, about one hundred seventy or one hundred seventy-five centimeters—and please, for the love of all that is holy, if you suspect you have met either of them, <em>do not say so</em>."</p><p>Judging by Nathalie's expression, the first thing she's going to do when her lawyer arrives is spill Ladybug's identity. But Rena, wandering over to lean on the next patch of wall to Carapace, bets this 112 recording is about to play on the breaking news broadcast, which means everyone will hear Queen Bee saying this:</p><p>"Ladybug values her privacy and her partner's privacy. The whole world poking their noses into Ladybug and Chat Noir's personal business sounds like an utterly <em>awful</em> way to thank them for their extraordinary and now <em>successful</em> efforts to protect Paris."</p><p>"And it would endanger Chat Noir personally." Carapace unlocks Nino's phone and hands it to Rena, then pushes himself off the wall. "The fuckwad legally responsible for his well-being gives zero fucks about his well-being. Neither does one of the other two adults living at the same address. I do not know whose side the third adult is on."</p><p>Rena reads the last text Nino received. Then reads it again, and a third time. The words don't change, nor the timestamp, a few minutes ago:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Looking Sharp, Adrien:</i> hey lil bro i'm sorry, tell everyone i'm sorry, i love you all</p>
</blockquote><p>Still filming; Rena doesn't want to stop filming until someone else has started, which should be any minute now—they're honestly surprised they didn't already see anyone but that news helicopter. Nino has Adrien's number, though—</p><p>"<i>Hey, this is Adrien's voicemail. Leave a message.</i>"</p><p>"Call us," Rena says. "Call this number, or my number, or Max or Rose or—anyone but Lila, really—for fuck's sake, Adrien, just let us know you're alive." Which. Fuck. Gabriel's looking at them. They all saw Chat Noir fiddling with his baton when Ladybug said <i>do it</i>. What would Ladybug—ah! "We should tell you this in person—actually don't listen to the rest of this voicemail yet, go find your friends first."</p><p>Rena swallows.</p><p>"Back? Adrien, I'm so sorry. Hawkmoth is your father. He's alive, he surrendered, Mayura is Nathalie, same deal—Ladybug won, Ladybug and Chat Noir <em>won</em>—but the condition he put on their surrender is he is only going to explain himself to you in person. I don't think Ladybug expects you to torture yourself by hearing him out," Rena adds, more to Paris (Queen Bee's pointing her weapon-phone at Rena) than to Gabriel, "but we did promise to tell you his condition."</p><p>Did Gabriel not think Ladybug's team would go through with that, or is that look of relief because he believes Rena when they imply Adrien is <em>not</em> Chat Noir?</p><p>"Dr. Rouge prescribes lots of hugs," Rena says, for lack of anything better to say, and hangs up. They dial again: "It's Rena Rouge. Has anyone heard from Adrien?"</p><p>"I tried calling as soon as Miraculous Cure came through," Rose says. "Straight to voicemail."</p><p>"Damn." Rena sags against the wall. "Keep us posted, Rose."</p><p>"Rose?" Queen Bee snatches Nino's phone. "Rose, get someone who was staying with us last night to go knock on suite 43. If no one answers, have the concierge or Jean-Stéphane track down the woman staying there. I am certain she and her—mm, companion—feel they owe your class president a few favors. I want her to call her lawyer friends. Because if Gabriel Fashions corporate assets aren't already seized or frozen, Paris police needs to get on the ball, and I don't want anyone's paycheck delayed over things <em>they</em> didn't do, and didn't know anyone else was doing." Queen Bee's tone becomes scornful. "Most of them—maybe everyone except Nathalie Sancoeur—the only thing they did wrong here is work for an asshole. Ladybug won't want them or their kids hurting over that."</p><p>That is—that is really good thinking. Why is <em>Rena</em> supposed to be running this flying circus, again?</p><p>(Because they're Ladybug's first choice for backup, Rena reminds themself. Both outside the masks and, since Ladybug never thinks 'backup' means 'Chat Noir', inside them.)</p><p>(Sirens outside the courtyard walls, fire, police, medical. People outside the courtyard walls, asking questions, deserving answers. Marinette outside the courtyard walls, dying.)</p><p>Arashi doesn't turn away from Gabriel and Nathalie. "Rena Rouge, Carapace, you two should go."</p><p>"You should," Queen Bee echoes. "I'll handle the press. You filmed it?"</p><p>"Still filming," says Rena. They think. They haven't said stop, anyway, and they're not entirely sure where their screen went.</p><p>"Stop filming," says Queen Bee. "Send the unedited version to the police—or put it on the Ladyblog, not public, and give Sabrina and me access, she can give it to her father—and go back to my suite or go <em>home</em>. I'll watch it and I'll do the public statement."</p><p>Rena stares at her. Carapace stops, halfway to the front door with Marinette's bag weighing down his shoulder. On the floor where Chat Noir left it, the Butterfly cane vanishes in purple light.</p><p>"Custody," Rena manages, waving vaguely at their prisoners. They mean <i>someone should make sure Arashi doesn't execute them without trial</i>, but—Adrien has long-sleeved shirts in his closet. And probably more of the cord he used to make Marinette's birthday present last year. There is probably a lot of other stuff around here that they could tie these two up with. None of them have gone to find any.</p><p>Rena is not sure they like what that says about any of them.</p><p>"Wait," says Gabriel. "Please."</p><p>Rena sighs a very loud sigh.</p><p>"My wife," says Gabriel. "There's a hidden elevator—"</p><p>Carapace and Rena look at each other. Rena asks, "Trap?"</p><p>"Trap." Carapace glares at Gabriel. "Nice try."</p><p>"Please," Nathalie says.</p><p>"If either of them breathes in a way I dislike," says Arashi, "I shall run the other through, exactly as Hawkmoth did Chloé." If Rena had a different camera angle, they would be able to record Arashi's face right now—oh, their screen's back, filming Arashi's resolute expression. "It is an unkind death. Let it go to one who is unkind."</p><p>"Oh, I see the problem," Carapace says, looking out the door and therefore entirely missing (though Rena films it) how pink Queen Bee's face is getting. "<em>Clear the gates!</em>" he roars, waits a beat, and flings his shield.</p><p>A screech of metal: Rena covers their ears. Carapace catches his shield and flings it, and the gates crash open.</p><p>"…Yeah, I think I am five thousand percent done with people right now," Rena says. The easiest way to leave the property without going through or over the inrush is probably the window Adrien—for now-obvious reasons—keeps unlocked at all times and open most of them. "Carapace, come on." They'll stop recording and start uploading as soon as they know there's a news camera on site—</p><p>Sabrina sprints in through the front door, just ahead of the first uniformed police officer, and collides with Queen Bee and clings: Alya is definitely going to edit that bit out of the version for the public, Rena thinks, though they're saving it just to prove later that Chloé can smile that softly.</p><p>The last bit recorded before Rena shuts that off to escape is Arashi moving to the side of the room with Queen Bee and Sabrina, and Queen Bee asking, hesitant and oddly nervous, "You think I'm kind?"</p>
<hr/><p>Adrien sags against the vanity, head pounding, heart cold, the compulsion to retch easing, and turns on the faucet to—</p><p>Purple gloves.</p><p>What were the words? "Wings fall?"</p><p>Oh thank—where <em>is</em> Plagg?</p><p>Adrien cups his hands under the tap, rinses his mouth, and spits. Another couple of handfuls get a lot of the vomit down the drain. Splash cold water on his face, rinse his mouth again, slide down against the locked door and pull Ladybug into his lap—she's still breathing, her heart still singing in peaceful G major key, still beating in (he counts) grave tempo; would that he could claim the pun is unintended—and he thinks he might, possibly, be a sane enough human to look at Nooroo.</p><p>…Who is hiding behind the wastebasket.</p><p>"Nooroo?" Adrien asks, cautious.</p><p>"…yes, Master?"</p><p>Adrien scrambles back up the vanity, dry heaving.</p><p>"Please don't call me that," he says through the hammering in his head, once his empty stomach settles again. "<em>Please</em>." He's heard Wayzz call Master Fù that, and of course so do Adrien himself and Marinette, but that's—that's 'master of his craft' or 'master teaching apprentices'. Possibly 'master' as in lawyer, or 'maître d'hôtel'. Not—</p><p>Not 'master over slaves'.</p><p>"What…<em>should</em> I call you, Master?" Nooroo's peeking out now, wings drooping.</p><p>He probably should have taken the fabric mask off before getting his face wet; oops. Nino's shirt is still sticky, too. "It's Chat Noir," he says, as gently as he can. "But you knew that." It's not nearly as gentle as he'd like to be. "He hurt you too."</p><p>There are too many people who might think that's in question.</p><p>"I'm sorry, Chat Noir."</p><p>Adrien sits back down, knees as close to his chest as he can while leaving room for Ladybug in his lap, trying not to disturb her any more than he already has. "You say that like you think it was your fault."</p><p>Nooroo ventures a little further out. "How could he have hurt any of you without my help?"</p><p>"<em>Did</em> you help him?" Adrien is pretty sure not. "Did you <em>choose</em> to help him? Was <em>not</em> helping him a choice you were able to make?"</p><p>Quiet, except for the beating sound of his skull.</p><p>It was never a choice, of course. It was even less of a choice for Nooroo than it has ever been for Adrien: no matter how tempting the rewards attached to Adrien's obedience, how restrictive the bars or rules keeping Adrien doing as instructed, or how harsh the punishment for being caught disobeying, Gabriel Agreste has never had the power to <em>compel</em> him.</p><p>Adrien doesn't know what he would have done, the day he met Plagg, if Plagg had mentioned this particular detail. But then Plagg, more than any of the kwamis except possibly Tikki, must never want wielders <em>knowing</em> this particular detail. And though Adrien suspects an unscrupulous wielder could do much more damage with Ladybug's earrings than his own ring—much as he knows Ladybug hates to fight him, there are <em>reasons</em> he would have thrown himself on the goddamn butterfly if he had seen it heading for Ladybug, and last night illustrated most of them—he is certain an <em>unimaginatively</em> unscrupulous wielder would prefer to enslave Plagg.</p><p>…How to phrase this?</p><p>"This order overrules any future orders I may ever give you," he tells Nooroo. "If anything I say sounds like I am giving you an order, know that it is only a poorly phrased request, and <em>act accordingly</em>."</p><p>"—Chat Noir?" Nooroo is gawking. "Why did you do that?"</p><p>"I don't want to be like him." Adrien shrugs. "Did it work?"</p><p>"I don't know."</p><p>"Do you want to find out?"</p><p>"…yes, Chat Noir."</p><p>Adrien nods. What would Nooroo not <em>want</em>—oh, of course. "Marinette's parents are probably downstairs." He hasn't heard them, anyway. "Go find one of them and ask for whatever you want to eat."</p><p>Nooroo hesitates.</p><p>Duusu flits through Adrien's thigh and up. "Is it working? Is it working?"</p><p>"I think—" A crackle interrupts Nooroo: the pink-and-black peacock pin flickers blue-and-pink, back and forth and back—Marinette joked once about wanting to design Princess Aurora's dress, about engineering fabric that changed colors like that, and Adrien isn't sure she was kidding—before settling pink-and-black again with one more electric snap. Nooroo glances at it, then up at Adrien, frowning. "I think it's working," they say. Duusu does a squeeful backflip.</p><p>Adrien tries to smile. "Good. I'm glad." The tile he's sitting on is uncomfortably hard; he shifts a touch, and Ladybug's black-wrapped wrist slides off her shoulder to strike his chest. He peels the fabric off, unable to resist stroking one thumb across the back of her loosely fisted hand: why hasn't Tikki dropped the mask yet? "Duusu, what's with your Miraculous?"</p><p>"Oh, it just does that sometimes," says Duusu cheerfully. Then pauses, looking more closely at Ladybug. "…Is Miss Ladybug going to be okay?"</p><p>Behind them, swooping closer to Ladybug's shoulder, Nooroo gestures between Duusu and the Peacock Miraculous and shakes their head.</p><p>Adrien closes his eyes for a moment: great. What now? Then opens them to smile, more familiar, more practiced, at Duusu. "Yeah, she'll be okay. You should go find something to eat. There's yesterday's leftover stock in the bakery, or a bunch of things in the kitchen. I don't think M. Dupain or Mme. Cheng will mind. And if they do, I—" <i>am still holding their daughter as she dies</i> "—will make it up to them." He thinks about that, dry-eyed. "…Somehow."</p><p>Duusu flits almost up to Adrien's nose. "Are you going to try true love's kiss?"</p><p>Say <em>what</em>? "You are a secret romantic, aren't you?"</p><p>"It's not a secret," says Nooroo.</p><p>"Hey! Nooroo!"</p><p>Another day this might be amusing. The thought of Nathalie, in particular, with—</p><p>Okay no. "Duusu, please go eat something. Maybe <em>don't</em> get caught," Adrien adds.</p><p>Duusu zooms off.</p><p>Adrien waits through a slow count of ten. "Bold of them to assume she loves me," he mutters, then asks Nooroo, "So what <em>is</em> with this Miraculous?"</p><p>Nooroo shrugs. "Something happened about ten years ago. It's damaged. I don't know much more."</p><p>Not much more, huh. "Do you not want to tell me the rest or are you not able to? If you don't want to, I won't ask," Adrien has to clarify, just in case. When did these Miraculouses, and the grimoire and whatever else Chloé was swiping, come into Gabriel's possession?</p><p>"You would have to order me to tell you," Nooroo says, and hides behind the wastebasket again.</p><p>That sounds suspiciously like <i>asking won't work</i>. Fuck whoever thought those spells up anyway. "Congratulations, Chat Noir," Adrien tells Ladybug, and slams his head back against the door. "You played yourself." Slam. "<em>Again</em>." Slam.</p><p>Ladybug's hand flattens against his heart.</p><p>"…okay, luckbug, all right. I'll stop."</p><p>Ladybug hates Chat Noir getting himself hurt. He knows that. Marinette likes Adrien okay, for reasons that mostly aren't even anything to do with Gabriel, but those that <em>are</em> fashion-related are the ones she highlighted last night in order to—what, trick Gabriel into thinking she was telling her team to protect Adrien in order to <em>conceal</em>, not reveal, that Gabriel ordered Firebug not to hurt Adrien? That sounds like his lady, anyway. It doesn't mean Adrien hasn't been wondering for a while if Marinette hangs out with Adrien only because Nino does, or because Adrien is just that pitiful a little lost kitten. It doesn't mean connecting the dots this morning, realizing the possibility he has been ignoring as entirely unlike her is <em>real</em>, didn't hurt him.</p><p>It doesn't mean she didn't say she means never, at Adrien's own request, to talk to him again.</p><p>Nino has probably seen that text by now, and put the pieces together, and decided to punch Adrien when next he sees him. Adrien trusts Nino, of course, and Kagami figured it out for herself and then connived a way to tell Adrien, and <em>only</em> Adrien, that she knew. It seems probable they'll tell Alya, possible they'll tell Alix and Chloé, and unlikely they'll tell anyone else, but—</p><p>The one person Chat Noir has ever wanted to name himself to may be the one person left in Paris who will never know his name.</p><p>Adrien watches Ladybug's nose wrinkle in her sleep. How long has it been since she called Lucky Charm? Too long, probably. The earrings aren't visibly cracked anymore, but Tikki still shouldn't be straining herself like this.</p><p>…Lucky Break heals. Adrien, wielding Tikki, ought to be able to help Duusu, at least a little—and Tikki may be healing Marinette.</p><p>Which is not what Marinette wants.</p><p>Oh—his ring's already off. Adrien does not remember deciding to <em>take</em> it off, but it can't have gone far, he saw his own cat ears in the mirror over this sink. It's safe for him to put on the earrings, then.</p><p>Well. Safe for <em>him</em>.</p><p>He <em>thinks</em> he will be able to stay sane long enough after Marinette's death to first Lucky Break the Peacock Miraculous, then get the earrings back off again. Sane enough, at least, for long enough. After all, he didn't notice her closed eyes—unconscious or asleep, not yet dead—until he brought her home, and he still didn't kill Gabriel outright.</p><p>There is no changing what will happen here. (Or if Bunnyx tries, he'll—he'll drop-kick her into the Seine, he supposes. After all, Alix can swim. And if the skates give her trouble, well, Kim can swim.) <i>Nothing can be altered, there is nothing to decide—</i> Oh, Broadway now? Adrien supposes it fits: this duet is before the two leads seal their fates, not after, while their plan is to live and never meet again, not to die together—but if there was ever a more fitting line than <i>You are all I'll ever want, but this I am denied</i>, Adrien hasn't heard it.</p><p>Though nothing Marinette said or did last night or this morning tells him her mystery boy was ever Luka. So neither of them ever <em>did</em> learn what it is to be in love and have that love returned.</p><p>…Better get it over with.</p><p>Marinette's transformation falls the moment the earrings are in his hands: he catches Tikki in one hand. "What happened to the five-minute rule?" he wonders, rhetorical, securing one earring to his ear. Marinette clutches weakly at the fabric over his heart, a shiver of dissonance—</p><p>—okay, Tikki wasn't being life support, then. That's—that's—that's—</p><p>Good. That's good.</p><p>"Nooroo," Adrien asks, setting Tikki on his knee to get the other earring in place, "do you think you can get Tikki down to the bakery?" Tikki does not, at all, look up to flying herself down there. To Tikki, he says, "No way am I trying Lucky Break when you look this gray."</p><p>"She's going to be okay, Chat Noir." Tikki smiles weakly at him, then leans to look at Marinette and tumbles instead, bouncing off Marinette's head and into the hood of the black sweatshirt she's still wearing. "I promise—" Tikki burps pink bubbles and stops, hiding her face in the fabric.</p><p>Adrien tries to smile back. "I know. I just told Duusu. I'll make sure Ladybug's okay."</p><p>Which right now she is not: Marinette is pressing her flattened right palm to Adrien's ribs, rubbing the side of her head by his knee, twitching and starting to whimper—</p><p>Because she hasn't been without a Miraculous on her person in a year and a half, except for less than an hour in early December—it honestly wouldn't be fair of any sixteen-year-old jock to attack anyone of Master Fù's advanced age (whatever that is) for any reason, but he only isn't standing by that threat because neither of them will see Master Fù alive again—and except for a few minutes in mid-October when they were both being dumbasses over staying true to her artistic vision. Where did he put—</p><p>Adrien slams himself back against the door. Damn it, he thought he'd <em>locked</em> that—and his ring is definitely not in both line of sight and arm's reach while his body weight is holding the door closed. Fuck. Her dropped cloth mask is, though: he grabs that. "Who's there?" he growls.</p><p>"Chat Noir?"</p><p>It's Tom Dupain.</p><p>Nooroo gives Adrien a worried glance, darts underneath Marinette's hood to fly up with Tikki clinging to their back, and vanishes through the wall.</p><p>"Are you and Ladybug all right, son? Who else is here?"</p><p>Tom Dupain, who invited Chat Noir to brunch moments after hearing his daughter loved him, where Adrien has never felt safe having anything of Ladybug where Gabriel might see. Where Gabriel banned Nino from Adrien's home for daring to try to make Adrien happy, where Gabriel has always shut down discussion of any career path for Adrien that doesn't end with Chief Something Officer at Gabriel Fashions, Tom heard Marinette say being a superhero isn't a safe or secure way to support a household and therefore the thing she was saying she wanted wasn't going to work out, and Tom <em>presented an alternative</em> that—he thought—might get Marinette exactly what she wanted, long-term. That might make her <em>happier</em>.</p><p>Tom Dupain, who is muffling his own emotions right now to better listen for Ladybug's and Chat Noir's.</p><p>Adrien bursts into tears.</p>
<hr/><p>Rena Rouge texts Sabrina the login details for the Ladyblog's newest admin account. "Still not thrilled with this," they mutter, checking how uploaded the recording is. Forty-one point nine percent. Then forty-two point zero. Carapace was laughing last night about how Wayzz plus firepower equals <i>420 Blayzz it</i>. Well, Alya got Crematrixx, and Adrien—</p><p>There are damaged patches visible from the Grand Paris roof on the buildings east and north of Place des Vosges.</p><p>Forty-two point one.</p><p>How long would they be able to put off going to talk to Mme. Cheng and M. Dupain? Either as Rena Rouge and Carapace or as Alya and Nino? Queen Bee and Arashi are <em>busy</em>, and <em>Ladybug</em> wouldn't put this off, Marinette would own up to her own mistakes—at least if it's <em>Rose</em> who informs her parents, Rena thinks, they won't shoot the messenger, and the guilty parties won't be in weaponized bread peel range until the bereaved parties have had a moment to breathe.</p><p>"—Hey, hang on," says Carapace, sitting up, staring through the clearing mist toward—</p><p>The Agreste mansion. Of course.</p><p>"Yeah, there goes another," Carapace says. "I wonder how many more little white butterflies are on the other side of that window."</p><p>Rena eyes him. "What window?"</p><p>Carapace shrugs, standing up. "Comic book supervillain lair, maximum drama, some attempt at secrecy—he probably doesn't know it looks different to me than to anyone else."</p><p>"So we're gonna go investigate," Rena decides, and shoots Carapace a brittle grin. "You take me on the <em>best</em> dates."</p><p>"I try."</p><p>Rena flips their comm back on as they leap off the building. "Carapace saw something at the mansion," they tell whichever teammates are listening. "We're coming to investigate."</p><p>"Oh good," says Queen Bee. "We haven't gotten into all the rooms here yet—they're all incompetent, utterly incompetent." She pauses. "Never mind that. Sabrina thinks it's magic."</p><p>"That would make sense," Arashi says. "They must have believed Adrien would never walk in on them when they're up to anything, after all."</p><p>"Ew, ew, ew!" Queen Bee exclaims. Carapace, landing on the top of the mansion courtyard wall, groans.</p><p>"Shut up," Rena tells them all. "I'm filming now." Suiting action to words, they turn their attention to the building's exterior. "Carapace, want to state for the record what you noticed?"</p><p>"Little white butterflies." Carapace frowns up at one of the upper levels. "I think—yeah, do you see in the center of this side of that attic? About midway up the level below the cupola."</p><p>Rena's already zooming in on the squarish opening. "Window, yeah. Think it's big enough to fit us?"</p><p>"Only one way to find out."</p><p>Carapace has to take his shield off his back and put it through at an angle, but he might have done that anyway (Rena thinks, noting the differences obvious on close inspection between the roofing within two meters of the opening and the roofing farther away) because being between people and threats is what shields are for; he himself fits easily, Rena right behind. "He built a four-meter butterfly-shaped window into his attic," Rena says, looking around the bare room with disgust, fingers clenched painfully tight around their flute. "Look, the floor's scuffed where the direct light is." Judging by the shape all the scuff marks make, Hawkmoth probably made sure to stand in the center of the area marked out by the shadows of the metal arcs, undimmed by the window's weirdly tinted glass, no matter where in the room those shadows fell.</p><p>"Must be nice having money," Carapace grumbles. He glances up: "Is that a spotlight? The only light fixture in the whole room, and it's a <em>spotlight</em>?"</p><p>"Comic book supervillain lair, maximum drama," Rena reminds him.</p><p>"Shut up."</p><p>Running their fingers along the walls means bumping over several almost-invisible cracks in straight vertical lines: "This attic seems smaller on the inside," Rena narrates, "maybe a meter or two less in each direction? Which means there's probably fun stuff stored in these—aha!" A circular button, after a moment's wait and the quiet hum of a motor, opens to a cylindrical elevator cage.</p><p>The elevator has five buttons and the top one must go to that attic lair. Buttons two and three aren't useful, as the doors won't open there. Leaning out the door at the next button's destination startles both Queen Bee and the older woman with a Paris BRI jacket poking at the gaudy gold painting; another BRI agent pretends he didn't yelp. Rena nods to Queen Bee and slams the door closed again. "Fourth button from the top is atelier," they observe, "third is probably level with Adrien's room, and second is probably the top floor on the floor plans. Which lied when it said this is all storage space. —And where has the Research and Investigation Brigade been?" they demand of no one in particular, pivoting to throw themself into Carapace's arms. (Since Rena can almost touch opposite sides of the car with their elbows, it isn't far.) Carapace leans them over to press the lowest elevator button to continue their descent.</p><p>"…researching and investigating?" asks Arashi warily.</p><p>"They're whose jurisdiction problems like Hawkmoth are <em>supposed</em> to be," Queen Bee answers. "They have truly impressive lists of things to charge Hawkmoth and Mayura with. And, as far as I know, no idea what magic is capable of that didn't come from observing us."</p><p>Rena bites their tongue. Then grimaces because that wasn't supposed to be literal, nor painful.</p><p>(It would probably be unfair of them to outright punch whoever at the BRI is in charge of those lists. They still want to.)</p><p>"—Oop, this part of the elevator shaft is see-through," Rena narrates. "<em>Damn</em>, that's a big basement. Creepy green glowy stuff and—are those <em>tree</em> roots?"</p><p>"What does he need with a basement he could fit the rest of his mansion into?" Carapace wonders, pressing his face closer to the glass of the elevator car.</p><p>"Comic book supervillain lair," Rena says. "Bigger better butterfly window, look—oh, talk about your cathedral ceilings." The elevator is letting them out on the same level as what would be the aisle between the pews if this room <em>had</em> pews, instead of gaps where it looks like the floor the pews would sit on should be. Rena turns on their flute's flashlight mode and shines it around the room: unlit sconces on the metal skeleton of the walls, glints of light on tarnished silver that—Rena zooms their camera in— "Yeah, that is the thirteenth Station of the Cross right there. Gabriel did not take those out when he renovated."</p><p>Ladybug is dead or dying. Chat Noir was willing to join her. Hawkmoth— There is an obvious metaphor here, and out of respect for the devout Catholics among Alya's relatives, Rena Rouge is <em>not</em> going to say it out loud.</p><p>"I have no idea what you're talking about," Carapace says, footsteps too loud. He hesitates at the railing around this platform, staring along the catwalk at what must be the altar, eerie in its shadows and green glow.</p><p>"What, you've never been in a Catholic church before?" There's nothing interesting at this end but the elevator, Rena decides. Up is probably just roof; down is probably just water, lapping gently at the walls. While the cool damp air doesn't smell like swimming pool, it also doesn't smell like river: Rena's not curious enough to go diving to find out why. "Wonder what's at the altar end."</p><p>Carapace blocks Rena from stepping onto the catwalk. " 'Have you not seen the people who were given a share of the Book,' " he quotes, securing shield to left arm and starting along the catwalk shield-first, right hand behind him to hold Rena's left, " 'but who purchased only error, and wish that you also go astray?' "</p><p>"Huh?"</p><p>"Your family doesn't take you to the mosque, dude, and my grandparents are Muslim. Why would you think I've ever been in a church before?" Carapace halts; Rena almost runs into them. "And I wish we'd leave, because two of the lights on that box are red, and if he set us a trap, this is probably where he did it."</p><p>Since there wasn't a trap in the butterfly attic (or, less likely, it isn't one they tripped) and there is probably only the one hidden elevator, Rena has to agree. They angle the camera for a better look at the altar area anyway: a lot of plants, probably artificial, and something that's too tall to be a church altar, too tall and the wrong shape or at least the wrong position, glowing along its nearest end: "I only see green—oh."</p><p>Rena swallows.</p><p>In the quiet of the dimness, from up ahead, three faint thumps.</p><p>"Did you hear that?" Rena asks, knowing even as they say it the answer is no. Carapace shakes his head.</p><p>Arashi clears her throat. "Firebug said Hawkmoth's wife—"</p><p>"<em>Shhh</em>!" Rena hisses, listening.</p><p>Three faint thumps.</p><p>Firebug <em>did</em> say Hawkmoth's wife, Rena thinks. So did Hawkmoth, as an afterthought. "<i>Afterthought</i> isn't the same as <i>trap</i>," they say.</p><p>"Doesn't rule it out, either." Carapace eyes the water below them and the long drops to either side, grim. "Why—"</p><p>"Émilie Agreste?" calls Rena. The sound reverberates.</p><p>Faint frantic thumping and a noise that might be words.</p><p>Rena vaults over Carapace and runs, the catwalk rattling loudly underfoot. Carapace curses, following them.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Content note: vomiting. <sup>[<a href="#creturn11">return</a>]</sup><br/> </p><p>If you have ever left a comment on any of my fic (and you are not Lilanon, and the clear-to-me purpose of the comment <em>wasn't</em> to make me or someone else feel awful), <em>thank you, I love you</em>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. a bitter smile</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I want the ice to melt,<br/>the slow dripping that feels like loss<br/>and is a loosening, a letting go.<br/>The sluggish floes will crack and heave,<br/>the river stretch like a snake in the sun.</p><p>—<i>excerpted from</i> "<a href="https://xineann.wordpress.com/2015/03/27/nan-fry-from-persephones-letters-to-demeter/">From Persephone's Letters to Demeter</a>", Nan Fry</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a id="creturn12" name="creturn12"></a>Chapter-specific content notes are in the chapter end notes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Chat Noir?" asks Sabine Cheng: a worried shiver of handbells.</p><p>Adrien shakes his head, frantic, though she can't see: he can't <em>tell</em> them to go away, not with all the tears he hasn't cried since he was six and bratty flooding his cheeks and damming his throat—what is the volume of twenty-five thousand nine hundred thirteen tears? how does one quantify the glow from a baker's hearth, or how snug is a bug in a hug, or the numbness that remains as battle-ardor dies?—</p><p>—and—</p><p>—and Marinette is trying to wake up and she doesn't <em>want</em> to, she'll consciously pick herself back up and shoulder all the burdens the moment she's aware she set them down, and what will that gain her? another month of misery, before the loss of—whatever else his father tore out of her on that rooftop; maybe the heart she scorned him for lacking—before that injury catches up to her?</p><p>It's her earrings she's missing, though, that's causing her minor-key distress—their absence must chafe her ears as much as the sweat-damp denim on his knee is chafing her face—and his ring is a poor substitute but—</p><p>"Wait," he chokes out, to Marinette and her parents both. "<em>Wait</em>, just, just wait—"</p><p>Replacing her fabric mask is a moment's work even with shaking hands. Neither parent tries the door when Adrien leans forward, murmuring soothing shushing nonsense between his sobs, and scoots around the tiny room. The ring's lying in the bathtub, black and green: it flares, dazzling, at his touch, and settles, a slim rose-gold band, on Marinette's finger.</p><p>Plagg nibbles on the curve of Adrien's ear. "Breathe, kit," he advises.</p><p>Adrien hardly notices. It's far more important to slide his hand up under his hoodie and Alya's shirt and find only smooth skin above her hip where he remembers bloody bandages. It's far more important that Marinette is tucking her face into his shoulder and relaxing back into slow, sleepy G major.</p><p>(Her nose is almost in his armpit; he wishes he'd bathed more recently than—was it two evenings ago? And no wonder his father's been avoiding people since his mother died: even with only three people close enough to overhear, Adrien's head is throbbing.)</p><p>"—Kit?"</p><p>Adrien shakes his head, small and without looking up. Father could have taken Plagg away from him at <em>any time</em>. Adrien hasn't always woken up when Father or Nathalie is up and about, even as fitfully as he's been sleeping the past several months; he didn't wake up when Master Fù sent Wayzz to steal the ring, not till too late; of all the things Adrien has ever hidden from his family—</p><p>"Your partner should be—should be down in the bakery," Adrien says, instead of cuddling Plagg close until the sobs punctuating these sentences <em>stop</em>. "And, and your purple and blue friends."</p><p>"I feel like you're hinting at something," Plagg says, plopping himself on Marinette's head and leaning warm on Adrien's shoulder and beginning to purr.</p><p>—If Plagg keeps that up Adrien won't have the heart to give him up and he does not have a <em>choice here</em>. "You should go see to your partner."</p><p>Plagg headbutts Adrien. "And let her skin me for leaving—" He exhales acid green gas. "—and you? Nah. I am not that desperate for cheesecake."</p><p>Adrien promised, he <em>promised</em>, but—</p><p>"<em>Go</em>!"</p><p>Plagg, wide-pupiled, bolts.</p><p>There, now he's failed absolutely everyone he loves and he deserves exactly what he's about to get. Adrien checks Marinette's mask and his own, holds her as tight as he dares, and croaks, "Come in."</p><p>The door unlatches; Adrien hides his face in Marinette's hair. That sharply indrawn breath is Mme. Cheng, he thinks from the clash of handbells he hears. (Adrien may have been granted the privilege to call Marinette's parents Sabine and Tom, but Chat Noir has <em>not</em>.) M. Dupain says, "Son, you look like hell."</p><p>"Imagine that." Marinette's hair still smells a little like Chloé's honey almond soap under the salt water of his tears: wrong, <em>wrong</em>, but distinct enough an aroma—distinct enough evidence he's awake—that he knows better than to tell himself it's only a dream. He <em>wishes</em>, but this is real, this is all too true, and—</p><p>Marinette hates liars.</p><p>"She's dying." Adrien forces the words past the ashes clogging his throat and draws a strangled breath. "Ladybug's <em>dying</em>."</p><p>At once Mme. Cheng says "I'll call 112," and M. Dupain reaches for his daughter, and Adrien hits them away: "<em>No</em>!"</p><p>A ringing silence.</p><p>"Hospital won't know what he did to her," Adrien says in a rush, trying to speak clearly, to hold back the tears. Chat Noir may get to feel whatever he wants, as long as it's nothing bad enough running the rooftops won't hold it at bay. Adrien doesn't get to feel much at all. "Ladybug—last night's akuma, Firebug, that was <em>Ladybug</em>…"</p><p>He cannot look at them. Nothing he's saying would trip the trap wire Hawkmoth chained her with last night but he cannot even pretend to look her parents in the eye.</p><p>"Don't…don't spread that around," he adds, and hiccups. "We told everyone it was the girl under the mask." Marinette's melody is shivering high notes, now, in worried minor chords. If he controls his breathing, he won't cry so much, or at least not so loudly, and she'll calm down. "I don't <em>think</em> her, her name got out. But Hawkmoth and, and a few others we don't trust know it."</p><p>"That's why you came here," says M. Dupain slowly. "Instead of to her family or yours."</p><p>"We can trust you, right?" Adrien still doesn't look up. Doesn't let on that this is a change of subject. "I <em>want</em> to trust you."</p><p>"Of course. What do you need?"</p><p>Nothing Adrien hears suggests Mme. Cheng is insincere or mistrustful. That's a first: even Master Fù doesn't want to trust him.</p><p>"Before that," M. Dupain interjects, bass woodwind jittering up and down the clef. "Do you know where Marinette is?"</p><p>Adrien doesn't snort. "The safest place I could think of on short notice." He's almost certain that's even true.</p><p>The woodwinds calm. M. Dupain repeats, "What do you need?"</p><p>"Don't tell anyone we're here. Not yet," Adrien corrects. "And…" They'll hate him. But he'll be past caring. "And when you do, say it's the kids under the masks."</p><p>"…Chat Noir?"</p><p>"Don't sound like that," Adrien mutters to both of them, though only Marinette's father spoke. No one in this city is afraid of an out-of-control Chat Noir, or even of an akumatized Chat Noir, because Ladybug is always around to control him. "I'm telling this out of order."</p><p>"Would you like some tea?" It's a suggestion, not a request. "You might take the time to sort out your thoughts," Mme. Cheng explains.</p><p>Adrien thinks about that.</p><p>"And she must not be very comfortable on the floor there," adds M. Dupain. (Marinette mostly isn't <em>on</em> the floor.) "Would she rather rest in our bed?"</p><p>Condescending doesn't sound like how either of them feels, Adrien thinks. "Okay," he says, quiet and feeling about four and scared, listening to Maman explain electrostatic discharge and sonic shock waves as the clouds' applause for the lightning's performance. M. Dupain reaches for Marinette again and Adrien shakes his head: "I've got her."</p><p>He needs M. Dupain's help to get upright without dropping her, though. And Mme. Cheng asks something twice, sounding like so much paper crumpling and crackling, before Adrien parses out she wants to know what sort of tea.</p><p>"Not catmint," Adrien answers, turning sideways to carry Marinette into the master bedroom. At least the bathroom is on the same level; stairs might be a problem. "I don't know. Um."</p><p>He lays her on the crazy quilt rumpled on the bed; Marinette's older work, he thinks, sitting beside her and running his hands over the worn cotton blues and greens and golds and the wrinkled, uneven stitching. Marinette herself stays sprawled where he puts her, unmoving, her heart so quiet he can't hear the slow melody over M. Dupain's woodwind arpeggios until he tips over to listen to her heartbeat.</p><p>"Hawkmoth got her," he says to empty air. The words are pale and blunt and dull. "She got his name, she made a plan, she told us what she could. I fucked it up. We won, but she—"</p><p>Pyrrhic. Not from 'pyre'. Not quite. A flame-haired namesake king, perhaps.</p><p>"He broke her." <i>Broke us both.</i> "Her Cure won't work. She tried."</p><p>Her heart beats on. But for how long?</p><p>"Why don't you want to get her medical help?" asks M. Dupain, seating himself on the floor.</p><p>The heartbeat rhythm stumbles. Fresh tears trickle down the drying salt lines. "You think they could do anything about an injury to her magic?" Adrien asks. "You think they'd know enough about magic to try?" He doesn't. "You think they could so much as prescribe paracetamol without knowing her name?"</p><p>Taking her as Marinette without admitting she's Ladybug—a lie of omission. Adrien wastes enough doctors' time by pretending he eats more and exercises less than he does: letting the doctors scratch their heads over why his metabolism is frighteningly fast has been worth it to keep himself and Plagg happy, but it's a lie. Leaving out that she cast Miraculous Cure when telling them what happened to Marinette—<em>lie</em>.</p><p>"I don't know what he <em>did</em> to her," Adrien says. "He took back the akuma. I thought she died right then. Then I—missed a bit—"</p><p>Euphemisms. Marinette hates liars.</p><p>"I think he pulled the akuma out of her and stuck it straight in me."</p><p>In his pocket, her charm is intact.</p><p>"I must not have fought her," Adrien says. "<em>I'm</em> fine. <em>I</em> wasn't tired. <em>I</em> didn't get hurt once. <em>She</em> could barely sit up with or without me. It wouldn't have been much of a fight. It <em>wasn't</em> much of a fight. His home security backfired. Mayura spent most of the fight dead."</p><p><em>Why</em> did Adrien's home have <em>missiles</em>?</p><p>"We <em>won</em>," Adrien repeats, thumbing first the Butterfly brooch pinned to the collar of Nino's shirt, then the Peacock pin half hidden by the folds of Marinette's hood. "Miraculous Cure worked on everyone but her."</p><p>He's failed her. Chat Noir has <em>failed</em> and Ladybug has <em>lost</em>.</p><p>"You sound like you need a hug, son," M. Dupain says.</p><p>"Don't want one." Adrien doesn't have the will to snap at him. " 'M not your son." It's kindly meant, and the worst part is that Adrien <em>knows</em> that. "Marinette's lucky to have you."</p><p>"We haven't wanted to ask about your home life," says M. Dupain, choosing each word with evident care. "Since you might think we're trying to learn your name." (Adrien only still cares about that because he promised his partner. He says nothing.) "But if—"</p><p>"If you're offering to do something about my father," Adrien says dully, because no possible ending to that sentence is bearable, "get in line. Or just don't bother. He's already dead."</p><p>Dead to rights? Dead to the world? Dead to Adrien? Possibly he has in fact now expired, kicked the bucket, ceased to be, and is now an ex-father, but Adrien kind of doubts it. Unless taking Cataclysm to the chest was a system shock in more ways than the obvious.</p><p><i>She's not like you,</i> he told Hawkmoth.</p><p>"I'm just like him," he tells Tom Dupain. "My father. Hawkmoth. Take your pick," he adds, as though those are different people. "When Maman died, Father lost it. Hawkmoth's wife died two years ago, and he lost it. He wouldn't have hurt nearly so many people if he didn't already have two Miraculouses."</p><p>M. Dupain offered, in October, to train Chat Noir as a baker. Adrien doesn't think he would have said that if he didn't think Chat Noir worth caring about. Which is worse, knowing how badly Marinette's father misjudged him, or knowing that Marinette's habit of giving people more chances than deserved or sensible is a family trait?</p><p>"For practical purposes," Adrien says, colorless words, "right now I have four." He can still feel the slow rise and fall of Marinette's chest. "Twice this morning I thought I saw her die, and twice this morning I <em>lost it</em>. And there is nothing I can do to help her now that she hasn't already done."</p><p>Or that she hasn't already refused to do.</p><p>"Ladybug learned something." How is he to explain this? "She didn't want to tell me about it."</p><p>Poison-laced secrets. Distrust. And when her options are distrusting him versus failing in her duty to their city, he cannot even complain about her choice.</p><p>Whatever <i>broke the moon</i> means, Ladybug probably noticed it just by looking up, and that not for long. The smallest feature of the lunar surface that is visible with the unaided human eye from the surface of the earth is about two hundred kilometers across. But Marinette probably hasn't memorized a lunar map, and she probably wasn't looking for whatever she found. The smallest new feature that she would be likely to notice, therefore, is—what, five hundred kilometers in diameter? One thousand?</p><p>And even that definition of the <em>least</em> damage she could possibly be talking about assumes that Pégase sent the Chat Noir who lost his lady Voyaging to somewhere no one else was. The moon's angular diameter is about half a degree of arc: one three-hundred-sixtieth of the apparent distance from the southern horizon to the northern by way of zenith, or from the western horizon to the eastern by way of nadir. To visibly damage the moon from the surface of the earth requires either terrifying force delivered with terrifying precision, or many terrifying forces and perhaps no precision—after all, a pebble in the open may stay dry through a rainshower, but not if it rains long enough—or—</p><p>Pressure is force divided by contact area. The weight of a cat on one's lap is less pressure if the cat is flopped or sprawling than if the contact area is only the cat's four small paws. The surface area of a sphere is four pi times the square of the radius. A crater with a radius of five hundred kilometers—</p><p>The moon at its nearest approach is about ninety percent its distance at its farthest. Apogee is four hundred thousand kilometers away.</p><p>He wonders if that Pégase survived that Voyage.</p><p>"I am capable," Chat Noir says, rather than try to do that math aloud, or explain 'alternate universe - canon divergence' as it applies to real-world events, or mention time travel at all, "I am capable," he repeats, throat and eyes dry, "of making a crater the size of France. And when her heart stops beating, I will <em>want</em> to. Or I will want to use her Miraculous and mine to make it start again, or make it so it never stopped. People will die," he tells Marinette's father. "People will die and she will never forgive me."</p><p>M. Dupain makes a humming noise. Adrien opens one eye, only now noticing he closed them, and sees him tilting one large hand back and forth. "I don't think that's true," he says.</p><p>Adrien snorts. "Simple Newtonian physics and basic algebra applied to the three facts she told me and an experiential analysis of Miraculous magic. Do you want me to show my work?"</p><p>"Do you know how old Marinette was when she first met my father?" M. Dupain asks instead.</p><p>Adrien twitches one shoulder, shrug-like, unwilling to move any part of him away from his sleeping lady: she's warm and her pulse is steady, slow in a way that might be her normal—sleeping hearts beating at half their waking rate isn't unusual, and he bets she has an athlete's heart—but the January morning air is cold.</p><p>M. Dupain nods. "I understand you first met him that day too."</p><p>"That was September," Adrien remembers. "Marinette was fifteen and six months." Too late he realizes that will betray how close the boy under the mask is to this man's daughter—wait, no, the Béfana attack was on Marinette's birthday; of course Chat Noir would know the date she turned— "<em>Fifteen</em>," Adrien repeats. "You didn't see your father for sixteen years?"</p><p>A visible wince. "Twenty-one."</p><p>"They made me taste-test their bake-off," Adrien murmurs. "They yelled at me the same way when I asked for jam. I thought she was just too busy to see him as often as she wanted."</p><p>But that's just how Marinette is, isn't it? he thinks. A warm salt drop rolls over the bridge of his nose; it and a friend from the other eye drip onto her hoodie. If Marinette decides to love someone, they can't help but love her back. Their hearts might drag them into it kicking and screaming—now that Chloé knows who Ladybug is, he's kind of surprised he hasn't yet heard Chloé's literal screams—but Lila and his father aside, the only person he can think of who hasn't eventually gone with it is mystery boy.</p><p>That probably says something about mystery boy.</p><p>"Your daughter's incredible," Adrien mumbles, closing his eyes again, and sniffles. Ugh, snot. "You should be proud."</p><p>"We are." M. Dupain's voice is warm, and—though the quiver is more in the not-sound of woodwinds than in the words—distinctly nervous. "Now, I'm telling you this in confidence, young man. I…ought to tell Marinette. And I will! —Eventually."</p><p>They sound just alike, Adrien notes, hearing Marinette's heartbeat slow in his ear, hearing the cadences of Marinette's voice echoing her father's. He hopes she's too far gone to hear whatever secret that she doesn't, because its teller doesn't want to tell her, want to know.</p><p>"…Probably not till she's ready for children of her own." M. Dupain clears his throat. "It's—hard to be proud of her, sometimes. She's capable of so much more than she's doing. She's just—misfocused."</p><p><i>I thought if you didn't know, you'd be safe,</i> Ladybug told her parents, almost a soliloquy.</p><p>"But I don't tell her that," M. Dupain continues, "because I never want her to think she's not good enough. Or that I'll ever abandon her. Or that there is anything she could ever say or do to make me stop loving her."</p><p>Adrien opens one eye again.</p><p>M. Dupain smiles down at him, rueful. "I'm just like my father, too."</p>
<hr/><p>Rena kicks one of the healthy-looking giant root things—Carapace still hasn't found the light switch; this place gets more disturbing with every detail they notice—instead of kicking the creepy altar / coffin / box / thing that might (<em>only</em>, a text from Carapace reminds Rena, <em>might</em>) have Adrien's mother alive inside, chanting the rosary from memory, as she said she's been doing for maybe an hour already. "Open sesame!" Rena shouts. "Speak friend and enter! One two three four five!"</p><p>"Is she <em>sure</em> it's a spoken password?" Carapace calls.</p><p>At a pause between Hail Marys, Rena repeats the question. "No," says Émilie, her voice strained in a way Rena recognizes as Adrien not wanting to think about how Chloé is hurting someone <em>this</em> time. "I guess not." Another small thump. "There's supposed to be a button <em>inside</em>," she repeats, and this time can't quite keep out the whine.</p><p>"So he expected to be here to let you out." That invites more questions Rena isn't interested in asking.</p><p>"I take back the thing I was about to say about asking him what the password was." Something clangs: Rena turns to see Carapace catching his shield, and a fresh dent in one of the walls by the elevator. "Something tells me she'd rather I Shellter her and bomb the rest of the box. She and I would both have more fun."</p><p>"What did he say?"</p><p>Rena shakes their head. "We have an idea for getting you out the hard way, but I know from experience it's pretty rough. Let me know if the quick terrifying way starts to sound better than the patient way, though," they add. "I know Adrien's claustrophobic."</p><p>"And whose fault was that, I wonder," Carapace mutters.</p><p>"Carapace. Babe." Rena hates everything about this too. "Your claws are showing."</p><p>"You're mixing me up with—"</p><p>"<em>What did you just say?</em>" screeches Queen Bee.</p><p>Rena almost rips out the earpiece because <em>ouch</em>. "What's happening?"</p><p>"Someone walked right into the mansion to lecture Queen Bee," says Arashi. "She doesn't seem to belong to BRI or emergency response and I <em>doubt</em> she's one of ours." The last several words have hints of a growl.</p><p>Carapace blows out a breath. "Please don't tell me that's Audrey Bourgeois."</p><p>"What municipal authority," Arashi asks, coolly polite, "does the mayor's wife hold?"</p><p><i>Sorry to disappoint,</i> Rena thinks. "Carapace, want to go stand between Queen Bee and Queen Audrey?"</p><p>"Nope." He lobs his shield Rena's way with a significant look. They catch it and continue to not remark aloud on how any trap in this box will catch Émilie before it does anyone else. "Why isn't she in New York?" Carapace grumbles; the elevator cage latches behind him and starts to ascend midsentence.</p><p>"What's going on?" asks Émilie in a small voice.</p><p>"A very long story." Has the London expedition gotten the missing Miraculouses back? Because Rena would very much like to hand Ivan and Mylène one each. Not to fight anyone with, just so they clearly have Ladybug's backing to loom in silence (Ivan) and challenge any authority (Mylène) who's getting in Ladybug's team's way. "One thing at a time, okay? Let's get you to safety first."</p><p>Émilie breathes raggedly for a moment; Rena circles the box again, running their fingers over it, looking for a switch or keypad or anything they missed.</p><p>"…All right," Émilie says finally. "Just—just—please. Is my son okay?"</p><p>She hasn't asked about her husband; that's encouraging, in terms of whether Adrien will be safe around her. Or vice versa.</p><p>"Yesterday morning," Rena begins, because they can't begin with 'this afternoon', because 'your husband has tried to kill your son several times and your son only didn't kill him back because someone he loves said not to' is the absolute worst place to open the subject, "some of Adrien's friends thought it'd be fun to film themselves dancing to 'Hardy Camp'. Marc borrowed a couple of bandanas so the video could go online without anyone getting Adrien in trouble with his father…"</p><p>They bite back a joyless laugh.</p><p>"Adrien didn't want to be the biker, though, he said that was Marinette's role, he'd rather be the firefighter." The rivets on the box all prove to be just rivets, not buttons in disguise. Rena really wants to kick the box. "I think he just thinks she looks cute in that poncho."</p><p>"Who's Marinette?" asks Émilie. "Another model?"</p><p>"Rena, back me up," interrupts Carapace from upstairs. "Ladybug appreciates Chloé's help. Right?"</p><p>"Just a moment," Rena tells Émilie. "Queen Bee, I thought you said you were going to watch what I filmed earlier."</p><p>"I <em>am</em>," snaps Queen Bee. "Is it watchable yet? …Oh. I'll. I'll…do that now. I wonder if Adrien's television…"</p><p>"She said she's proud of you," Rena tells her. "In just about those words." They slide to the moss-covered ground and lean back against the box, next to Carapace's shield; if the flowers painted on this thing really are Easter lilies, Alya is going to make a point of going to Mass on Sunday just to ask the priest how blasphemous all this is. "I got it on the video record. <em>Ladybug is proud of you</em>."</p><p>Ladybug is not proud of Rena Rouge. Marinette has no reason to be pleased with Alya. She hardly has any reason to say they're her friend at all.</p><p>"And if either Monsieur Mayor Hôtelier, who has no reason to be up there, by the way," Rena adds in case he is, "or Madame Fashion Editor, who has <em>less</em> than no reason to be up there, by the way—" That has never stopped the woman. Alya <em>saw</em> the article about the Charpentier-Moreno wedding; it's not linked from the Ladyblog's article on the Malediktator attack because Alya only has instinct and the date to say they're related. Rena snorts, allowing themself five seconds of this pleasant daydream: "Well, you tell them both they're fired."</p><p>Queen Bee scoffs.</p><p>"<em>He</em> is already fired, I expect," Arashi says. "I believe Queen Bee's video message last night will prove…persuasive. <em>She</em>…"</p><p>Arashi trails into silence. <a id="return13" name="return13"></a>Émilie is praying again: <i>benedíctus fructus ventris tui</i>.<sup>[<a href="#note13">13</a>]</sup></p><p>"Oh, that's a good idea, Sabrina," says Carapace. "Let's do that."</p><p>"Yes, that will look <em>so</em> good in the news reports," Queen Bee says, sounding as tired as Rena feels. "She probably has a plane ticket already booked for the fifteenth. Get through the twentieth wedding anniversary, get through Valentine's, and done playing happy families. I'll ask Jean-Stéphane to reprogram my lock so neither of them can get anywhere near Pollen while I'm asleep."</p><p>"Good plan," Rena says. No prize for guessing how André and Audrey Bourgeois have stayed married for twenty—</p><p>Wait a minute.</p><p>"Wedding dates are the sort of passcode people are warned not to use." Rena gets back to their feet. "Because the thing that makes them easy to remember is the thing that makes them easy to hack."</p><p>"What does that have to do with the price of tea in Tokyo?" Arashi asks.</p><p>Rena blinks. "Didn't we say?" Never mind. Carapace will fill the others in. "Émilie, were there any particular readings at your wedding?"</p><p>Trixx mutes the comm midway through Queen Bee's squawk; bless Trixx, because that <em>hurt</em>.</p><p>Émilie finishes the Hail Mary she's on. "At the Mass, yes, of course."</p><p>"Which was his favorite?" Rena's already pulling up a searchable text. Which <em>translation</em> might be a problem…</p><p>"First Corinthians," Émilie says. "Chapter thirteen, verses four through the first sentence of eight."</p><p>…Weird, but okay. <a id="return14" name="return14"></a>"La charité est longanime," Rena begins.<sup>[<a href="#note14">14</a>]</sup></p><p>"Not that version—" "A vocal-print lock?" "Adrien's <em>mother</em>?"</p><p>"Shut <em>up</em>!" Rena takes a deep breath. They do not want to snap at any of their teammates. Not that much. Not Émilie either, probably. "One at a <em>time</em>, please. Émilie?"</p><p>"New International Version, not Bible of Jerusalem." She sounds apologetic. "I wanted parts of the ceremony in English because my father never learned French."</p><p>Rena nods and runs a different search. "Arashi?"</p><p>"Should I go ask him what the password is and record his answer? He might have ensured only his voice will be effective." Arashi snorts. "My mother certainly believes she has done that."</p><p>"Let's not yet," Carapace suggests. "Rena, Mirage?"</p><p>"Excellent plan." Queen Bee and Carapace should do the interrogating, if any of Ladybug's team does. Arashi will probably kill Gabriel and will probably regret it; Rena definitely will and probably <em>won't</em>. They eye the text of the passage, then the coffin-shaped box: "I wonder," they muse aloud. Did Gabriel lock this only to himself and maybe Nathalie, or does Adrien have access, or could anyone open it with the correct password? Not that they expect this to work on this try no matter what: if this English translation is at all accurate, then the French <em>must</em> be wrong, though the English version does at least make sense for reading at weddings. "Mirage!"</p><p>Adrien shimmers into view. "Love is patient—"</p><p>With a hiss of air, the outer panels whir open.</p><p>Rena says, "You have got to be fucking kidding me."</p><p>Émilie's family resemblance to Adrien is <em>painful</em>, especially with that expression: the same disbelieving, heartbreaking joy Alya saw in photographs taken by someone Gabriel'd probably just shoved out of his way in order to go hug the son he'd had turned into a glitter statue. She's propping herself up on one elbow to almost press her nose against the glass, attention riveted to Rena's illusion. "Adrien?" she breathes.</p><p>"An illusion," Rena has to explain. <a id="return15" name="return15"></a>They add Mylène without props, Rose with a construction-paper chicken hat (Sabrina huffed off at the sight of it, but Juleka and Alya were amused)<sup>[<a href="#note15">15</a>]</sup>, Ivan with a matching magenta bowtie, Kim doing his prim-faced best Butler Jean-Stéphane. Marinette stumbles into the scene, feet tangled over the broom she swiped from the janitorial closet for Mylène; she didn't faceplant onto the courtyard floor then, and her image doesn't hit the moss now, because Adrien puts himself in the way. "This was yesterday."</p><p>"He's so <em>tall</em>," says Émilie, fascinated, though she's twisting bare fingers together, much like Adrien worries at his ring sometimes. "I don't recognize any of these people."</p><p>"Some of his classmates." Rena circles the thing to poke at the clear inner panels. It is definitely a high-tech coffin, Snow White–style, though what exactly it does probably depends on whether (before Miraculous Cure) Émilie was really lying here dead in her snow-white business suit; there's a bouquet of red and white roses fallen past her feet, the blossoms either fake or disturbingly fresh. "That school's a magnet for the sort of trouble my team deals with." Rena fades out four of the figures and Marinette's poncho, has Adrien sweep her a Chat Noir–esque bow, and sets them to dancing, like at Chloé's party months ago: graceful, lively motions, and even if less intimately posed now than Alya posed them then, Rena is painting neither expression more entranced.</p><p>"You're a Miraculous wielder." Émilie's certainty is <em>interesting</em>. "Why did Gabriel allow him somewhere so dangerous?"</p><p>Rena opens their mouth to say <i>I don't think Adrien allowed him that much choice</i>—Alya knows Adrien had to run away to go to school that second day, that he'd done the same thing the first day and gotten hauled back; that he would have tried again and again had he had to, but Gabriel decided to use the promise of time with friends and the threat of enforced loneliness as carrot and stick—</p><p>But that's not the whole story, is it?</p><p>"Carapace," says Rena, "Ivan wasn't random."</p><p>Alya doesn't believe their mother moved too slowly on purpose, not then and not ever; they're just glad Ella had enough sense by four to learn from Etta's example. But how better to prove to someone who doesn't believe a lit stove is dangerous than to let them touch the flame?</p><p>"Please," says Queen Bee, disparaging. "The first akuma attack used the first person who got upset and stayed upset for more than twenty seconds in the classroom Hawkmoth's son was supposed to join that day, and you still thought that <em>was</em> random? Unbelievable. Utterly unbelievable."</p><p>"Shut up, Queen Bee." Excuse Rena for having a few things on their mind today. They rap on the clear panel and almost smile at the sound. "Émilie, I think this is glass. Do you think you can get your jacket off to protect your face? Because glass is breakable."</p><p>Émilie nods frantically and starts wriggling the jacket off. Rena hefts Carapace's shield, debating whether to dismiss the dancing illusion.</p><p>Well. It would dismiss itself soon enough. Too soon.</p><p>"I'm ready," says Émilie from under the jacket. She's pushed herself farther up the cushion inside the coffin, on her side with knees drawn up, leaving as much clear space below her as she can for Rena to smash the shield into.</p><p>The glass shatters satisfyingly.</p><p>Émilie takes a long shuddering breath.</p><p>Ladybug might have stopped breathing when she cast Miraculous Cure; Chat Noir certainly thought she did. She might have stopped breathing since, and only Chat Noir might know. Will anyone think that's a good trade? Rena sweeps the shards of safety glass out of the way, hits some more parts of the panels until they stop holding together, and clears the shards again. "Okay, slide down," they say. "Carefully—let's try not to start bleeding."</p><p>They don't quite manage it, partly because Émilie's knees buckle under her with Rena positioned to brace instead of catch, but she only nods tightly to Rena's apology. "At least my silkworms look all right!" she says, her intonation precisely Adrien's determined optimism, which is when Rena notices the greenery has cocoons.</p><p>—Rena has had about enough of dark damp air. "Do you think you can walk," they ask, "or do you need me to carry you?"</p><p>Émilie shakes her head. "I don't suppose you brought my wheelchair?"</p><p>Rena eyes the mossy floor, the rattletrap catwalk, the elevator shaft Ivan might not physically fit inside even if they remove the cage, and says, "I didn't know you use one." Their research about how to make buildings disability-accessible is solid, even if their motivation is Lila-related and therefore suspect, and the Agreste mansion does not seem terribly accessible. Rena wonders just how much Gabriel was planning to wish different. "Let's get you on my back," they say. "I'll carry you."</p><p>"I have a better idea!" says Bunnyx cheerily.</p><p>Rena does not drop Émilie; they ease her back down faster than planned. "Bunnyx, has anyone caught you up on how Ladybug and Chat Noir are doing right now?"</p><p>"Hey, if no one comes back from the future to tell you not to do it, how bad of an idea can it be?"</p><p>Marinette's parents may never see her alive again. Maybe they won't see her dead yet, but Rena <em>doesn't know</em>. "Fun fact, Flopsy, foxes eat rabbits!"</p><p>"I thought you were vegetarian?" asks—if that's Roi Singe, then they must have gotten the rest of the Miraculous back. Good. Rena doesn't want to think about if they hadn't.</p><p>And they did say that, yes. It's probably even true. That is not the point. "Congratulations, <em>you</em> two get to explain to Adrien's mother what the fuck she's missed the past two years."</p><p>"I propose we ask the parents of Adrien's classmates to explain things. I believe Claudie Kanté will be happy to assist." Pégase believes, sure, Rena will go with that. "I am not certain of where to find you," he continues.</p><p>"Oh, right," Rena says, and goes back to their flute phone to turn on their location.</p><p>The aqua glow of a Voyage portal flares, staticky and chirping, into being. "Madame Agreste?" checks Roi Singe almost before he steps out. "I'm Roi Singe; welcome aboard Pégase Airlines."</p><p>Rena snickers; Pégase smiles. While they're both helping Émilie onto Roi's back, Pégase watches the illusions of Adrien and Marinette, still dancing: "When did Alya rope you into helping matchmake, Rena?"</p><p>…There is no good way to answer that, is there.</p><p>"They'd matchmake themselves if they weren't both stubborn," Roi says, bracing on the creepy coffin while he stands. "I mean, look at obliv— <em>Anyway</em>, Madame, Adrien's really missed you."</p><p>While Émilie's not looking, Rena snatches the nearest silk moth cocoon off its little tree and hurls it through the images, bursting the illusion into orange smoke. They'll dance like that again, Rena promises themself and their friends, turning to follow Roi through the portal. They'll dance like that again, and nothing Hawkmoth has ever done or ever will do will stop them.</p><p>They <em>will</em>.</p>
<hr/><p>A light rapping on the door frame announces Mme. Cheng with a tray of red-and-white china teaware and one large azure ceramic mug. "Jasmine," she says, setting the tray on the bedside table. "Warms the heart and soothes the soul."</p><p>Adrien does not want soothing or warmth. He wants this to be <em>over</em>. He wants the joyful sounds and how joy sounds to stop pinballing painfully around his skull, he wants not to imagine how the symphony of Paris will change tune when they learn the cost of victory, he wants to fast-forward to the part where nothing and no one can hurt Marinette again.</p><p>But Marinette's mother is pouring three cups, and she'll feel hurt if her guest refuses, and Marinette must have staged the whole drama of her broken heart in order to keep her father from feeling hurt about misreading things. Adrien braces both elbows to sit up.</p><p>Tries to, anyway. She's wrapped her arms around his shoulders and he didn't even notice. "I don't think I'm allowed," he murmurs.</p><p>Mme. Cheng surveys them. "Maybe if you sit up with her in your lap?"</p><p>Adrien half shrugs, working one hand under Marinette's shoulders to roll over. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. "You don't deserve this. None of you deserve this."</p><p>"Neither do either of you." M. Dupain leans forward, as though to help Adrien sit up, then hesitates. "Sabine, he might like a mom hug?"</p><p>Adrien stiffens. Marinette stirs.</p><p>—No, no, she doesn't <em>want</em> to. He needs…he needs her to hold him less tightly, to begin with, this is much less family-friendly when she's on top. At least by the time her parents figure out exactly whose breasts are in his face right now, he'll be past caring.</p><p>"<em>Do</em> you want a hug?" Mme. Cheng asks once he has made it halfway upright, politely ignoring both Adrien's burning face and how Marinette curls up with her head on his lap like a sleeping kitten.</p><p>He doesn't have enough left in him to resist the temptation to pet Marinette. He should stop when her hair's off her face; he doesn't. "Why do you care?" Adrien asks, though he shouldn't do that either.</p><p>"Should I not?" Mme. Cheng hands him one of the cups of tea, taking another for herself. "You two care so much about all of us, and it sounds as though almost no one cares about either of you."</p><p>Okay, that's just painful. "No, she has family." Adrien debates for a moment, then realizes it will be difficult to impossible to hide the kwamis from Marinette's parents if expecting them to return the Miraculouses to—whichever poor fool gets stuck with the responsibility, probably Rena Rouge or Chloé; maybe Master Fù respawned, but Adrien doesn't want to bank on that. "The spirit of the Ladybug Miraculous—this is her favorite bakery. I <em>know</em> you'll know who we are. And who her parents are. You've both seen us here before."</p><p>M. Dupain nods, getting up to fish a heart-shaped tea infuser out of his mug. "Who will you want us to call?"</p><p>Adrien gives him a flat look. It doesn't even matter which question that is, of the several it might be, because Marinette's father knows her classmates well enough that the answer will be obvious. He drops his gaze again: the teacup is warm, the room is warm, Marinette's family is <em>warm</em>, and if her mother is offering a hug then he <em>wants</em> what he only barely has the will to refuse. The tea will have to be enough—and even that, its heat soothing a throat he didn't even notice getting sore, might be too much.</p><p>"We promised the Turtle Miraculous spirit matcha macarons," Adrien remembers. "From your bakery, because yours are the best." He takes another sip. "I need to pay you for the food we stole anyway. I wrote down what I thought we'd owe you, but I don't remember how much that was."</p><p>"I take it the little flying spirit creatures need to eat so your superpowers work?"</p><p>Mme. Cheng's voice is a little too dry. Adrien closes his eyes. "I'll pay you for whatever they eat, too. Please don't spook the Butterfly or the Peacock. They didn't have any choice."</p><p>"Like you don't have any choice now?" asks M. Dupain.</p><p>"I didn't say that." It's good tea, Adrien's pretty sure; he knows Marinette doesn't cut corners, anyway, and he doesn't believe her parents would. Honey might be nice—no, some other sweetener; he can still smell the honey-almond from Marinette's soft hair. "Do you have a choice about obeying a police officer? Of course not, right?" Wrong, but Adrien doesn't pause. "But you're not compelled to. You just won't like what happens if you don't. And you still might not do what they want." Now he pauses. Mme. Cheng wasn't there that day, but M. Dupain must have seen M. Haprèle and Mme. Mendeleiev. "Remember Rogercop?"</p><p>Adrien remembers, two months into their acquaintance, telling Plagg to shut up, as he had a math test the next day and he'd lost important study time to Rogercop. He remembers putting on a Jagged Stone playlist ten minutes later, to cover the unsettling silence; he remembers only realizing an hour later it was quiet enough something must be wrong.</p><p>"The Butterfly and the Peacock <em>had no choice</em>," Adrien repeats.</p><p>A moment's silence. He can't even try anymore to pick out how anyone in particular is feeling, not when there's jubilation in the park, celebration in the city, exultant dance beats and triumphant trumpets and overwhelming symphonic relief, striking off each other and blurring into a foggy waterfall's roar.</p><p>"Tom," says Mme. Cheng, "could you go get started on those macarons?" Adrien opens his eyes to see her expression, but it's only a small pleasant smile and even, placid breathing, which tells him <em>nothing</em>. She's worked a cash register more than long enough to know how to make sure her face says nothing. He learns nothing from the harsh consonants of her next sentence or three or of her husband's reply, either, except that apparently both Marinette's parents speak at least a little German. (Does Marinette? Does it matter anymore?)</p><p>Whatever argument they're having, M. Dupain must lose: he throws up his hands, narrowly avoiding splashing tea out of his mug, and leaves the room. He turns back at the threshold to say "Chat Noir, anyone in Paris would do anything to help either of you. I hope you know that."</p><p>Where was that attitude a few minutes or a few months ago, when Marinette's fear of disappointing her parents was one of the things breaking Ladybug?</p><p>Mme. Cheng stays quiet for a few moments longer. When (Adrien thinks) she's sure her husband is out of earshot, she says, "Your Cat spirit friend is terrified right now."</p><p>Adrien shrugs one shoulder. "Not surprised. His partner's looking about as good as mine is. Feed her sweets, feed him cheese, they'll be fine sooner or later."</p><p>"He's terrified <em>for you</em>."</p><p>Plagg has had hundreds of wielders over thousands of years and he is, himself, destruction. Adrien may honestly be the best wielder Plagg has ever had—however much he suspects that superlative is adjusted for things like Adrien's age and his childish longing for someone to tell him he did well—but that must be like saying Smokey is the best cat one has ever had, when Midnight and Snowball came before her and one said the same of them. Sometimes there's no point in heroic measures; get a Callie or a Tabitha and <em>move on</em>.</p><p>"He'll live," Adrien says.</p><p>Adrien won't. Adrien <em>can't</em>. Adrien—</p><p>—does not know how he's going to do this. Fuck.</p><p>Will Chat Noir's own Cataclysm even work on him? Ladybug's yo-yo can bring down Tour Eiffel, so it can <em>certainly</em> reduce someone to long-pork filets as easily as it sliced up the wax Hawkmoth, and even Miraculous armor might not save the yo-yo's target from a garroting; Ladybug has never hurt anyone that way, if only because she has never wanted to—but can that weapon bring down its own wielder?</p><p>He doesn't want any of the kwamis to see this, though, and Plagg observes, must observe, everything Chat Noir does. And then, no matter how vital it is to keep them away from anyone else who will exploit them, he isn't sure he can bring himself to remove either Miraculous he's wearing or either that she is until the last possible moment. Especially not if either of Marinette's parents realize he's serious—he's certain they haven't yet—and try to stop him: he might need Miraculous strength then just to get far enough away to do it without injuring—</p><p>Downstairs, a distinctive chirping amidst a hiss of static.</p><p>…Great.</p><p>That's sincere. He thinks.</p><p>Adrien takes one more sip of the tea and turns enough to set the half cup beside the untouched one. "Thank you for your hospitality, Madame," he says, dry-eyed, and slides out from underneath Marinette, trying to ignore how her face scrunches in displeasure. "You're kinder than I deserve."</p><p>"Chat Noir—"</p><p>He doesn't want to hear it. "You have more guests," he says. "They must have good news—" The sound is Pegasé's Voyage, not the whirr-swish of Bunnyx's Burrow. That in itself means averting a scary lot of potential catastrophe no one has wanted to think too hard about. "—but probably nothing it's safe to share with much of anyone. Please stay with her."</p><p>He could say <i>imagine if Ladybug's mother were caring for your dying daughter—what would you want her to do?</i> But—even knowing that the mask will come off sooner or later; even knowing that if Sabine Cheng is neither removing it herself nor present to see it done, then she'll be the first one told whose face they find—that's too close to betraying his partner's secret.</p><p>"Please," Adrien repeats. He leans down to kiss his lady's limp hand, the only lover's goodbye she might ever allow. "No one should have to die alone."</p><p>He closes the master bedroom door behind himself, and only then mumbles, "I didn't want to die alone."</p><p>Miles to go before he sleeps. Adrien straightens his spine, checks his mask, and heads downstairs. "Bunnyx," he says to the teammate bouncing one foot off the footrest of the kitchen stool she's perched on. "Roi Singe." That teammate nods from his half-seat on the back of the sofa, where he's turning his staff over in his hands. "Pegasé?" Adrien doesn't see him.</p><p>"My kwami doesn't like carrots," complains Max from behind the door to the water closet.</p><p>Figures. "Raid the kitchen," Adrien suggests. "We'll add it to my tab. No one who lives here is on this floor, if that's the problem," he adds, even as Kaalki zips through the door and over to the refrigerator Adrien's already opening. "Ladybug's upstairs sleeping. Leave her the fuck alone." To the tiny old woman sitting on the sofa, her back to the wall, Adrien says "You must be Madame Lenoir."</p><p>"I suppose I must." She smiles, patting Master Fù's hand, which rests on the large carved octagonal box in his lap. "The search and rescue was almost appallingly easy."</p><p>"Oh! Oranges!" Kaalki cheers, muffled.</p><p>"No, it was definitely appallingly easy," Roi Singe says, while Adrien closes the refrigerator too hard and figures out which cabinet Kaalki's in. "Right till Grandpa woke up."</p><p>"Good timing, though," says Bunnyx. Adrien pauses in opening the can of mandarin oranges; Bunnyx studiously does not look at him.</p><p>"So your end went well. Good." <i>Glad someone's did,</i> Adrien doesn't say. They all looked happy enough before they saw civilian Chat Noir wearing a sloppily cut fabric mask and a damp, sticky borrowed shirt; Kaalki, diving into the oranges, still does. "As soon as you three are all recharged, I need you to go help Rena Rouge or Queen Bee or someone. We kind of stuck them with all the cleanup."</p><p>"And…" Master Fù squeezes Mme. Lenoir's hand and gulps. "How did it go here?"</p><p>Adrien stares at him. Stares at the box full of miracles they didn't get. Stares at him. Flicks the brooch pinned to his collar.</p><p>Master Fù nods, sighing. Max, Adrien hears, flushes the toilet and turns on the sink.</p><p>Once his teammates have bundled themselves out of the apartment—he didn't even need to glare at Bunnyx or Pegasé, or to push Roi Singe—Adrien turns to his mentor, feeling an echo of the arctic fury of <i>this man killed my lady</i> that he sent crackling through Gabriel's veins: "Did you know she's suicidal?"</p><p>Slowly, his shoulders hunching turtle-like, Master Fù shakes his head.</p><p>Adrien heaves a sigh, slumping against the kitchen counter, feeling most of his anger at the man Marinette called grandfather drain away. "Of course not. No one knew."</p><p>Maybe the one person to know both her names should have known. Maybe a kwami or three did know and couldn't tell. But her partner and her friend certainly should have noticed.</p><p>"I don't know what anyone expected," Adrien says, "giving that sort of responsibility to someone with that much dedication and that little idea of how to say 'no'." The Latin phrase he wanted last night. He remembers it now.  "Ladybug must be steadfast and dependable." <a id="return16" name="return16"></a><i>Dum</i> is no more interesting than <i>as long as</i>, though its pronunciation opens wordplay possibilities at least as amusing as <i>semper ubi sub ubi</i>, however much darker, as the drums of Moria.<sup>[<a href="#note16">16</a>]</sup> "So the girl under the mask must be unreliable.</p><p>"Ladybug must be trustworthy and true," Adrien says. Wordplay possibilities also abound in how <i>spīrō</i> is the root of 'inspire', 'aspire', 'expire', 'spirit'. (In particular, there's a joke somewhere in 'conspire' and 'preaching to the choir'; now he'll never find it.) "So the girl under the mask, who hates liars, must <em>lie</em>.</p><p>"Ladybug must put her city before herself." To prosper is to progress toward, where to be desperate (as how Master Fù is clinging to Mme. Lenoir's hand) is to be without, the action <i>spērō</i> describes and the result it brings. "So the girl under the mask must put aside all her dreams."</p><p><i>Dum spīrō, spērō</i>. While I breathe, I hope.</p><p>"She used to have dreams," Adrien says. "Did you know that?"</p><p>He can't hear her breathe from here.</p><p>He'll—he'll go upstairs. He'll hear, one way or another. He might see—though better, really, if he keeps his eyes on the stairs themselves. Leave the brooch and earrings on her desk: Master Fù will heal Duusu, and no one will steal Nooroo again. Then—then Marinette's balcony is high enough that falling unarmored from that height might be fatal no matter how he hits the ground, though how he hits affects the odds. If he needs insurance, there's no shortage of sharp things in her—</p><p>—She falls: protective reflex, too-close quarters: a heap on the wooden floor: his head ringing, face stinging, mind <em>clear</em>.</p><p>Marinette grumbles into his collarbone, "Miss Maladroit strikes again."</p><p>"…My lady?"</p><p>There's no way he's died and gone to any particularly happy afterlife, right? He doesn't remember dying this time.</p><p>She lifts herself on wobbling arms, focusing on the breathless Adrien with teary, stubborn fire-blue eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she gasps, gaze flicking to each of his ears, then his collar. One elbow gives out, dropping her onto his ribs; she pushes herself over enough to run cool fingers and cool metal over his hot, aching cheek. "I'm sorry," she repeats.</p><p>She's <em>alive</em>.</p><p>"We're going to be okay, chaton," Marinette says, sniffling. "I promise."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Content note: referenced/hypothetical animal death. (By way of apology, here are some photos of my kitty, Thea, <a href="https://twitter.com/AlexSeanchai/status/1243966034110889986">helping</a> <a href="https://twitter.com/AlexSeanchai/status/1246153013330247680">me</a> <a href="https://twitter.com/AlexSeanchai/status/1253026010540331008">write</a>.) <sup>[<a href="#creturn12">return</a>]</sup><br/> </p><p><a id="note13" name="note13"></a><i>13:</i> 'benedíctus fructus ventris tui': from the Ecclesiastical Latin prayer "Ave Maria" (English "Hail Mary"), 'blessed is the fruit of your womb'. <sup>[<a href="#return13">return</a>]</sup></p><p><a id="note14" name="note14"></a><i>14:</i> "La charité est longanime": the first four words of 1 Corinthians 13:4 in La Bible de Jérusalem translation. The same bit of the King James Version reads "Charity suffereth long"; the first word of the Greek is ἀγάπη (agapē)—it does mean love, but it is enough not the wedding sort of love that 'charity' probably is a more accurate translation. <sup>[<a href="#return14">return</a>]</sup></p><p><a id="note15" name="note15"></a><i>15:</i> French 'poulet': literally 'chicken', also figuratively 'chicken' as in 'coward', also 'police officer' with insulting intent comparable to English 'pig'. <sup>[<a href="#return15">return</a>]</sup></p><p><a id="note16" name="note16"></a><i>16:</i> Latin 'semper': 'always'. 'sub': 'under'. 'ubi': 'where'. No, 'semper ubi sub ubi' is not a phrase that makes any sense in Latin. <sup>[<a href="#return16">return</a>]</sup><br/> </p><p>If you have ever recced, reblogged, or otherwise pointed someone else at any of my fic because you like it or because you think they will, <em>thank you, I love you</em>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. a half-familiar tune</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There's coffee in the square,<br/>warm French bread<br/>and all those thousands dead<br/>are shaking dried mud from their hair<br/>and queuing up for home.</p><p>—<i>excerpted from</i> "<a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/today/hi/today/newsid_8175000/8175790.stm">Last Post</a>", Carol Ann Duffy</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>No chapter-specific content notes, though as it's been a while, I feel I should reiterate that if it's in the tags for the whole story, I'm not repeating it for specific chapters.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Trixx, let's pounce," Alya murmurs in the shelter of two pairs of legs and Carapace's shield, and Rena Rouge stands up for Pegasé to take their place, so no one will see more of him recharging than a flare of blue light or, likely, hear more of it than his whispered "Kaalki, dismount!"</p><p>Not that anyone's really looking, Rena's pretty sure: the people whose chairs face either cluster of heroes are pointedly intent on their phones ("twelfth time's the charm?" mutters one, raising his phone to his ear), or their neighbors ("—just like the purple devil, wouldn't it, to frame somebody?" says one; another begins "do you think Ladybug's really—" and stops dead), or the news ticker (<span class="smallcaps"><i>een Bee: seeking them out "an utterly awful way to thank</i></span>) over TVi replaying aerial footage of the fog-shrouded Shellter dome. A few more are watching the emergency department's waiting room exit: a teenage boy Rena half-recognizes comes out and is immediately engulfed by a sobbing woman chanting <a id="return17" name="return17"></a>"al-Ḥamdu lillāh, al-Ḥamdu lillāh,"<sup>[<a href="#note17">17</a>]</sup> who might be his mother.</p><p>Which means no one is willing to notice the tear tracks forming down Rena's cheeks.</p><p>"No, I <em>don't</em> want any treatment," Émilie is saying, heated (handle with potholders), to the nurse who's trying to convince her to go inside and get her vitals checked. Which Émilie kind of needs, because Roi Singe is visibly the major reason Émilie's upright. "I don't know what year it is, I <em>hope</em> this is Paris but I don't know that either, and I <em>don't care</em>. I want to speak to someone who can help me contact my <em>family</em>."</p><p>"—Shit, should've thought of that," Rena says, whipping out their flute phone. No way is Queen Bee anywhere near done reviewing that video, but she's by far the likeliest to know this: "Chloé, has anyone gotten in touch with the rest of Adrien's family?"</p><p>"Son of—" Rena mutes the call just in time. A beat later they unmute: "I think it's just his mother's sister and her son in London," Queen Bee says, "and no, I don't know how to get in touch with either of them."</p><p>"Make City Hall do it," Carapace says. "Hey, Pegasé."</p><p>"Yes, I will happily provide transport," Max says, voice muffled, then whispers, "Kaalki, full gallop!"</p><p>Queen Bee facepalms hard enough Émilie flinches from the sound.</p><p>"Awesome," says Rena, heading for the nearest empty chair, and hangs up.</p><p>Émilie's voice suggests a temper being heated to a boil: "I meant my son and my husband, Mademoiselle."</p><p>Three of the people assiduously ignoring them all look up. One says, "They're not a girl." Someone who isn't looking away from the TV adds, "Where've <em>you</em> been?"</p><p>"Under a rock," Rena says, wanting to weep happier tears. "Cut her some slack, people, she doesn't even know why that headline matters yet."</p><p>Émilie frowns up at the television screen, where TVi is showing people setting up concert speakers in Place des Vosges, with closed captions currently reading <i><span class="smallcaps">spur of the moment benefit concert</span></i> under the headline <i>HAWKMOTH ARRESTED?</i></p><p>The door from the emergency department snicks open again: "—texted Nathaniel to warn everyone about her—"</p><p>Marinette went to a lot of effort <em>not</em> to destroy Lila Rossi's entire life. Literally, last night, and figuratively, because if Marinette asked him to then Jagged Stone probably <em>would</em> call Lila a con artist while streaming live to a million fans, who would then tear Lila's reputation and online presence to <em>shreds</em>. And Marinette must have been tempted. Rena Rouge is not going to murder Lila Rossi.</p><p>"If your friends don't believe you, they're not friends and it's their loss," Mme Rossi says, heels clicking across the floor. "Surely at least your boyfriend—? I would hate to see your heart broken, my sparrow."</p><p>"I checked the news." Rena isn't sure how to read Lila's tone. "Adrien's still missing."</p><p>—Rena's on their feet, whipping around to face the Rossis and snarling "You vicious conniving manipulative little <em>liar</em>! You—" They bite Carapace's gloved finger when he covers their mouth, kick and flail when he lifts them off the floor from behind: "<em>Why</em> are you <em>protecting</em> her?"</p><p>"I'm protecting <em>you</em>!" Carapace snaps in their ear, shield-arm between their body and Mme Rossi's flaring nostrils and flattening lips, between them and Lila's fearfully darting gaze. "I'm protecting you," he repeats.</p><p>Two drops of blood well up from Carapace's glove.</p><p>Rena swallows, tasting copper and smoke, and stops struggling.</p><p>Someone clears their throat. Émilie, maybe, from its direction. Carapace turns his head: "Madame, please stop arguing and let the doctors look you over. Roi Singe, stay with her until Pegasé brings her sister, if they'll let you. And someone <em>please</em> for the love of all holy ones explain the past couple of years to her. <em>Kindly</em>." He pauses, glancing around and relaxing enough Rena's soles touch the floor. "Where'd Bunnyx go? Never mind, she'll figure something out. We're leaving."</p><p>…Good plan, Rena thinks, running their tongue over unfamiliarly pointed teeth. There's at least two phones out like their owners are filming, anyway. Rena shouldn't— Ladybug's reputation. It matters. Less than her life, but unless that's where Bunnyx has gone—</p><p>"You will not." Mme Rossi's tone is coldly, crisply polite, and it <em>pushes</em> them in a way Rena—</p><p>—has <em>felt</em> before.</p><p>"You will explain to me, <em>truthfully</em>," Mme Rossi continues—commanding in a way that makes Rena <em>want</em> to obey, just as Lila's hurt-kitten act makes Rena <em>want</em> to sympathize, <em>want</em> to believe— "why one of the so-called Heroes of Paris is accusing and attacking my daughter."</p><p>Well. This might all be on TVi the moment Rena Rouge stops talking. It may even get submitted to the Ladyblog, though who knows if the modmin team will post it. (Alya won't, but once it's viewed there's no un-viewing it.) But telling someone whom no one will question how she punishes Lila? No one whatsoever? (Not even courts of law, unless she gets <em>truly</em> vicious; Mylène has poked on and off at how to get Rose and Adrien safe, and—well, there are reasons Alya and Nino had vague plans of murdering Adrien's father.) Telling this woman the truth about what Lila's done?</p><p>That's a compulsion Rena almost doesn't feel the need to fight.</p><p>"Last night's akuma hurt Ladybug. Last night's akuma only didn't win everything because, as usual, Ladybug and Chat Noir both think faster than Hawkmoth does." Rena notes the way Lila's brow furrows. "Last night's akuma <em>victim</em>," they continue, leaning back into Carapace's rock-solid strength, "is someone Lila has been bullying since the start of seconde. If not since midway through troisième.</p><p>"I'm not sure why Lila targeted Marinette," Rena adds, putting one hand outside Carapace's shield to count on their fingers, "but, you know. Marinette's prettier. Marinette already has the good reputation Lila wants. Adrien likes Marinette way better than he likes Lila—oh, Cara," they add, aside, "if I'm not there when someone tells Adrien he's been dating <em>Lila</em> all this time, someone needs to film it, I want to see what his face does." Attention back on the Rossis: "Oh, and Marinette saw right through Lila's lies early on." Rena smirks, just a little, wiggling all five spread fingers, and folds her arms. "In terms of Lila's motive, we're spoiled for choice."</p><p>"So you say this Marinette girl is <em>justified</em> in putting my daughter in the severe burns ward." Mme Rossi's voice grows colder with each word.</p><p>Rena stares at her. "Your daughter has been akumatized on three separate occasions, and her literature classroom has the highest concentration of ex–akuma victims anywhere in the world outside a Bourgeois family dinner or an akumatized people's support group. How in the <em>fuck</em> do you not know how this works?"</p><p>"Liar." (Rena isn't sure whether that frown is because Mme Rossi thinks Rena's throwing off the truth command, or because she knows they're <em>not</em> and therefore has questions for her daughter.) "My daughter has never been akumatized."</p><p>"Volpina in February," Rena retorts. "Chameleon in September. Heroes' Day along with a lot of us. And knock it the fuck off with the persuasion magic, Rossi, I wasn't planning on lying to you anyway."</p><p>Mme Rossi pulls Lila a little closer to her side. "And yet you say what this girl did last night was <em>justified</em>."</p><p>"Don't put words in my mouth. The things I did when <em>I</em> was akumatized weren't justified either." Rena pauses: what Marinette would say here is obvious, but Rena does not <em>want</em> to. But Marinette is—but someone should say this: "And I am sorry, Lila. Nothing I know of that you have ever done, and nothing I can think of that you <em>might</em> ever do, justifies Firebug burning you red and blistering over thirty-two percent of your body."</p><p>Most of two hours passed between last night's fires on the north and east sides of Place des Vosges. About an hour between Ladybug dropping her magicarons at Max's and Chat Noir confronting her at Lila's. Rose was calling everyone for an hour and a half or so, and Lila never answered. What would have changed if she had?</p><p>Would anything have changed?</p><p>"I am sorry," Rena repeats. "<em>But</em>." Lila's trembling now, eyes damp, and because she is not talking, Rena thinks these might be real tears. But. "Let's talk about what Firebug did last night. And what she didn't do."</p><p>Mme Rossi is still pushing on that <em>truthfully</em>. Rena wonders if she's clumsier than her daughter, or—diplomat that she reportedly is—unused to commanding instead of persuading, or if Alya was never paying the right sort of attention.</p><p>"Firebug's second target was a hotel in the northeast part of the arrondissement," Rena says, crisply laying out facts. "We aren't sure, but we think Marinette's grandpa was a guest there. Hawkmoth was insisting Firebug hurt people who hurt Marinette—you know that, Lila, you were there when Firebug told Chat Noir that, and you know Firebug wasn't able to tell a lie. And Grandpa Chén expects great things of Marinette." <i>Terrible, yes, but great</i>—fuck that book anyway. "Things she hasn't been sure she can live up to.</p><p>"Firebug's third target was Marinette's parents' home." Rena considers Lila's tense posture, how her mother is holding on to her even though it's plain Lila wants little more than to run, and says, "How even the most loving, well-intentioned parents might hurt their only child, I'm sure you can imagine.</p><p>"Firebug's <em>fourth</em> target—well, you heard her say the bakery fire was bigger than she thought it would be." Maybe most of that was the flour. M. Dupain has given Alya the safety lecture on flour's explosive potential more than once. But Marinette must have heard it ten times at least.</p><p>"You seem certain of what the akuma was saying to my daughter," says Mme Rossi.</p><p>Rena rolls their eyes. "My teammate took notes, and then I read them." Entirely true. Arashi annotated her transcript of her audio recording as much as anyone else did. (Why they want to hide Arashi's presence, they don't know.) "We haven't heard that she lit anything on fire in the twenty minutes or so between the hotel and the bakery; the bakery fire was bigger than she thought; and after she spent ten, fifteen minutes in your apartment <em>not</em> lighting anything on fire, Lila said something sarcastic that pushed Firebug's buttons. The one labeled <em>liar, liar, pants on fire</em>." Rena meets Mme Rossi glare for glare. "And Marinette fought to keep herself from exploding long enough to make as sure as we could that no one, <em>including your daughter</em>, would still be in range for that <em>big boom</em>."</p><p>"So you are saying this girl is unstable."</p><p>There's no call for <em>that</em>, Madame. "I'm saying, last night the inside of Firebug's head was a magically enhanced pressure cooker. Ever used a pressure cooker?" Rena suspects not. "They come with pressure valves and safety guides. If you open it without venting some pressure first, you get dinner all over your ceiling. If you're lucky. If you're not lucky?" Rena shrugs. "Shrapnel, scalding, setting the kitchen on fire."</p><p>"What does that have to do with me?" Lila ventures, voice higher than usual.</p><p>"Firebug had to hurt people who hurt Marinette." Rena wasn't lying last night when they told Lila's mother they had reason to suspect Lila of choosing to be Hawkmoth's accomplice. They still do. That doesn't mean Hawkmoth has ever told Lila something true in his life. "Firebug had to burn people who lied to her. Hawkmoth gave her no choice about it. The first fire last night? Our best guess is she'd been akumatized for over an hour. She was trying <em>not</em> to hurt people." Rena focuses on Lila. "She blew up the hotel. Hawkmoth turned up the pressure. Half an hour later, she came to the bakery, goaded her parents into lying to her—Chat Noir was there," she adds before Mme Rossi can question her again, "he heard her do it—and she blew up the bakery. As far as we know, she didn't hurt anyone in between. As far as we know, she didn't hurt anyone for a while after that." Multiple secret identities depend on nobody mentioning that Instagram post Max deleted, or what happened before and after. "When did she come find you, Lila? When did she decide you would make a good safety-release pressure valve?"</p><p>Lila gulps. "A little after 21h? I think?"</p><p>"Most of an hour before we thought to go check on you," Rena says, wincing. "I'm sorry." Not as sorry as they think they would like to be. "I bet you were easy to vent on, though." They remember telling Chat Noir that Marinette's every thought involving Lila is romantic jealousy over Adrien. They remember slandering their bestie like that. "I heard you said you're Ladybug's best friend—is that true, Lila? If you say no, I know that's a lie. That'd be <em>me</em>. Though until April she would have said Chat Noir," Rena supposes. "Which Marinette knew. And if you say yes, several thousand Parisians know that's a lie. The hit count on that interview you gave the Ladyblog is <em>ridic</em>. I heard you said Jagged Stone wrote a song about you—is that true, Lila? He didn't, but you said he did. I heard you said you were in Achu on Heroes' Day—is that <em>true</em>, Lila? She had you coming and going."</p><p>Mme Rossi blinks. "Lila has never been outside Europe in her life. I have never heard of Jagged Stone and I hope I would have met anyone who wrote a song about my daughter. And why would she associate with people who are either incompetent or attention-seeking? Why would she <em>want</em> to?"</p><p>Rena snorts: has this woman ever met her own child? "She hasn't. She <em>said</em> she did."</p><p>"How <em>dare</em> you call my daughter a liar?"</p><p>
  <i>How <strong>dare</strong> you say I do not love my son!</i>
</p><p>Forget wanting to kill Lila Rossi: Rena wants to kill her mother. "Call the school and ask to speak to Caline Bustier about your daughter. Call her right now. I do not know if she will recall where Lila said she was calling from on Heroes' Day specifically, but somehow I doubt that was the only day Lila wasn't where she told her class she was. I think it might have been the <em>last</em> time she video called from somewhere she said wasn't Europe," Rena adds, entirely certain it was, "but I doubt it was the only time."</p><p>"…The school that was closed for several months because you and your superhero friends weren't doing their jobs."</p><p>"Holy fucking shit," says Rena. "Lila, I am sorry I tried to hurt you just now. Today's been awful and I wasn't thinking and I didn't have all the facts."</p><p>Because there is only one place Mme Rossi could have heard about Lila's school being closed.</p><p>And maybe she believed it only because Lila's power convinced her to. Alya can think of no other reason why they themself bought Lila's line about saving Jagged Stone's cat, or about saving Max from what they must all have believed a particularly sharp, sturdy, vicious thrown napkin. But what must have happened—because Marinette might be immune, but is she really? was she always? after all, Marinette freaked out most of the day Lila first arrived over the thought of Adrien finding Lila more exciting than Marinette herself is; she didn't start fact-checking Lila until Lila's first video call to the class, over a week later—</p><p>What must have happened is Marinette, who is Ladybug, watched the video Alya posted, of Ladybug's best friend interviewing Ladybug's quote-unquote best friend. Marinette caught Lila in what was unmistakably a lie.</p><p>Lila's mother—possibly the only family Lila has—must never have so much as asked anyone what Lila should be doing while she wasn't in school. Lila's mother must never have caught her in that or any lie. Lila's mother must never have <em>cared</em> that much.</p><p>That explains so much about Lila Rossi.</p><p>"Marinette might even thank you," Rena says distantly. (If Marinette lives long enough to think of Lila.) "Nathalie last saw Adrien about 19h15 last night. He texted Rose at almost 21h, saying he'd seen Marinette a few hours earlier. He thought he'd upset her. He said Ladybug brought him home. But you see," Rena says, watching Lila's eyes, watching her calculate, "I know where Ladybug was at around 19h15 last night. I'd say she was fighting on the <em>fourth</em> fucking front of that hellscape, but I think it was the first. And you saw for yourself how pointedly Firebug looked like Ladybug."</p><p>Lila nods.</p><p>"I think Firebug meant to make Adrien lie to her again. She couldn't hurt him until he did. She <em>needed</em> to hurt him. <em>He</em> was her first target. But she didn't," Rena says. "If anyone had seen Adrien after about 22h30, or if he'd called or texted anyone to tell them he was okay," instead of texting Nino a fucking suicide note, "I think we'd think he never got hurt last night at all. Just like Hawkmoth never got hurt last night at all."</p><p>"Three reasons," Lila says, quiet, hesitant, holding up three fingers. "Why she didn't trap Hawkmoth in his home and burn it to the ground. He made it so Firebug couldn't attack him directly without it backfiring on her. His wife wouldn't get out either." She glances at something behind Rena and off to one side. "And she didn't want to say the third in Hawkmoth's hearing."</p><p>Rena will check with Arashi later, to ask whether Ladybug made any gestures that the audio recording wouldn't have caught. But they don't think Lila's lying now. "But the next thing she did was tell us to protect Adrien, and every reason she gave had to do with his father." They sigh. "Yeah. I think Hawkmoth banned her from hurting his son."</p><p>Lila nods.</p><p>"For what little it's worth, I don't think she wanted to hurt you either," Rena says. They do not want to know how hot is red-hot, or how badly burned someone must get before they stop feeling it, before their nerves are too fried to scream. <a id="return18" name="return18"></a>It is bad enough knowing the food safety reasons why meat that one isn't necessarily sure of what it is or where it's been needs to be cooked to above 75°.<sup>[<a href="#note18">18</a>]</sup> "But she needed to buy enough time to tell our team that. And you were…" Rena grimaces, remembering the smell of crisped flesh. "Convenient."</p><p>Are Lila's earrings still in Rena's pocket? They both should be; Rena remembers putting one there while in the hospital last night—possibly while Mme Rossi was still watching them—and the other when finding it in Chloé's bathroom where Chat Noir had probably already forgotten it.</p><p>"Team Miraculous thanks you for your service," Rena says, solemn. "Don't do it again."</p><p>Lila snorts. Rena honestly cannot blame her.</p><p>"Free advice," they add, fishing in their pocket. "Join the drama club. Audition at a community theatre. Go to university to study stagecraft. Something of that sort. You already know how to act and talk so people feel what you want them to feel: onstage, you'll be able to break everyone's hearts to your heart's content and they will love you for it."</p><p>She hides it so quickly Rena isn't <em>entirely</em> sure they saw Lila's astonished delight at all.</p><p>"By the way," they add, deliberately casual, "you left these." They drop the only proof they have that last night's tornado sentimonster was ever under Lila's control into Lila's hand.</p><p>The world spins, three lazy clockwise pirouettes. Their ears pop.</p><p>Rena is seated in Carapace's lap in one of the waiting room chairs, his back to one wall and one elbow almost on the corner table. Lila's sitting in the other chair by this table, putting her earrings on, and her mother is getting to her feet beside her. No one else is nearby on that side, nor in the nearest few seats in the closest rows away from the walls, but Roi Singe is two chairs away from Carapace, murmuring to Émilie and showing her something on a screen that unfolded from his staff. Bunnyx has found some mini traffic cones somewhere—sky-blue and white with black borders between stripes, so three guesses where she found them—and is entertaining two children and three teenagers by skating between and around them in a walkway space they're about to have to clear out of so there's enough room to transfer someone from a hospital wheelchair to something smaller, sleeker, and without armrests or push handles that (it looks like) her husband brought. One of the teenagers is filming Bunnyx, or, with plausible deniability and probably not great audio, this corner.</p><p>Mme Rossi heads for the exit, with Lila trailing behind her, looking thoughtful. Trembling, Rena gets out her flute.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Rena Rouge:</i> so that was super weird right</p>
</blockquote><p>"Sweetheart," Carapace says, "I have been trying to get your attention for like ten minutes."</p><p>"…oooh joy." That has so many implications they do not want to think about yet.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Rena Rouge:</i> forgetting anything he did to Chat Noir, or as Hawkmoth to Adrien</p>
  <p><i>Rena Rouge:</i> sounds like Lila's maybe worse off than Adrien?</p>
</blockquote><p>"Yeah, I got that," murmurs Carapace. "Someone else's problem?"</p><p>Rena shrugs one shoulder, not wanting to answer yes or no. Alya, it appears, has missed three calls each from Manman and Anansi, two from Papa, and one each from Mama Lahiffe and Mme Cheng; there's at least one voicemail; they have texts waiting from Rose, Kagami, Anansi, and Mme Cheng; let's not even discuss the email or Tumblr notifications.</p><p>They have no idea what to say to anyone that isn't asking Anansi whether Ella, Etta, and Chris burned down the apartment building while Alya wasn't looking.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><span>🗞</span><i> Alya:</i> we're sorry for sticking you with watching Chris</p>
  <p><i>Anansi </i><span>🥊</span><i>:</i> !!!</p>
</blockquote><p>They're about to dial voicemail when the weirdly sci-fi sound and aqua flash of Voyage spits out Adrien's aunt and cousin, then Pegasé. Two seconds to take in the room: "<em>Émilie</em>!" shrieks the twin in black, rushing to the twin in white, almost falling over herself to embrace her sister.</p><p>"Amélie, Amélie," sobs Émilie. "And Félix! Goodness, you've grown handsome." (Rena has seen steel beams standing less stiffly than Adrien's cousin is.) "And Colin will—?"</p><p>Amélie's smile drops; Émilie falls silent. Rena, staring down at the button to dial voicemail with Carapace's chin on their shoulder and his warm cheek against their itchy dry one, remembers Adrien saying he thinks Félix is justifiably jealous Adrien still has a father.</p><p>"And you haven't heard from Adrien either, have you." Émilie hides her face in her sister's shoulder. "I'm told Adrien was happy yesterday, but no one is telling me about <em>today</em>, and they're all carefully avoiding saying Gabriel's dead."</p><p>Carapace lifts his head. "Oh no," he snaps, "Gabriel Agreste is very much not dead. Very <em>pointedly</em> not dead. Because Ladybug and Chat Noir point blank refused to kill him."</p><p>"I tried to make sure someone would break it to you gently." Rena's fighting down a snarl, their tears overflowing again. Funny, they'd never thought of people listening as having tangible weight before. "We <em>tried</em> to make sure you wouldn't have an audience when you found out what your husband's been up to. At least we did make sure someone capable of being <em>kind</em> to you is here when you find out he was implying at the top of his lungs he's been torturing us all for a year and a half <em>for you</em>."</p><p>"All," Carapace adds, levering himself and Rena to their feet, "including Adrien. Get someone to show you the news report on the Gorizilla attack."</p><p>Rena snorts. "Wow, go straight for the jugular, why don't you. Including her too," they add. "Creepy catacomb cathedral is <em>not</em> watertight."</p><p>Almost everyone listening winces.</p><p>"Straight for the jugular would be blaming Hawkmoth's family for Ladybug dying." Carapace is steering Rena toward the exit. "Or for Chat Noir dying. Which you know he will if she does, because he seems to think he is just like Hawkmoth. Even though that is obviously not true, if only because <em>he</em> knows his lady won't appreciate his burning the city down on her behalf."</p><p>Roi Singe glares at Rena and Carapace until the sliding doors close behind them. "No one has heard from Adrien," Rena hears him say; they tug Carapace off the sidewalk for a moment to listen. Roi continues, "Probably because he doesn't want to talk to anyone. Maybe not even you, Madame—and after everything <em>you</em> pulled last week, if I were you I wouldn't even let him know you're in the country." (Did Alya miss something?) "And I wouldn't expect anyone to hear from him for a while."</p><p>"So he's okay?" asks Émilie.</p><p>"He's safe with a good friend," Roi replies.</p><p>Rena bites back their joyful shout, grins tearfully at Carapace, and leaps for the rooftops: "Wait, shit," they ask a moment later, opening their flute phone to the map, "which way to the bakery?"</p>
<hr/><p>Adrien doesn't want to ask—he wants very little less than he wants to hear her heartbeat stop; he can barely breathe for fear of it—but he needs to know: "I thought you wanted to—" The truthful verb gets stuck in his throat. "—to sleep?" Perchance to dream.</p><p>"Not <em>yet</em>." The thought doesn't seem to excite any more emotion than Ladybug's usual peevishness at her partner not taking things seriously enough. "Where's—"</p><p>"I told all four of them to go eat," Adrien interrupts, even though he's not sure she means any of the kwamis. "So they're probably downstairs with M. Dupain, wreaking havoc."</p><p>A twitch that might be a nod. "Queen Bee?"</p><p>…Of course Marinette wouldn't want to set down her responsibilities until she was thoroughly certain she was done with them. "You didn't hear her shouting for Sabrina?"</p><p>"Guess not," Marinette mumbles. "Sabrina and—"</p><p>"I'm sure they're all okay, luckbug." Adrien tilts his head enough to bring Mme Cheng into view: she's partway up the stairs, clearly trying to figure out how to get herself down or them up without anyone stepping on anyone. Adrien had better get them out of her way. "Madame, could you get in touch with Alya or Rose and get a head count?"</p><p>"I'll try," Mme Cheng says, pulling her phone out of a jeans pocket. "Local cell towers are overloaded, though, what with everyone trying to make sure everyone is alive and has heard today's news. It might be a while before I can reach anyone."</p><p>Adrien nods. If he rolls Marinette to one side, then swings her legs over his lap… "Not a problem."</p><p>"I need to know." Marinette's breath hitches. "I need to <em>know</em>."</p><p>"Both this building and Lila's are standing again." Adrien sits up, scooping Marinette back up, and scoots out of Mme Cheng's walkway. "You wouldn't have started fixing property damage if you hadn't finished putting everyone else back together."</p><p>"You don't know that," grumbles Marinette, and asks "London trip?" before Adrien can contradict her.</p><p>Adrien counts off: "If there's eight Miraculouses in that box, then they're all accounted for."</p><p>"Seven in the box," Mme Lenoir says. "We needed better agility on the way out." Her tone suggests the whole expedition was a comedy movie with a heist plot; Marinette giggles; Mme Cheng hesitates, then closes the apartment door behind herself. Mme Lenoir continues, "But if you trust the other eleven are with trustworthy people…"</p><p>"I'd recite all the names if she'd let me." Adrien resists the temptation to touch the upward curve of Marinette's lips to be sure her smile is real. "Was Bunnyx dual-wielding? I hope so; she's good about reality-checking her risk tolerance."</p><p>"Where Roi Singe is not known for taking thought-through risks and Pegasé is not known for taking risks," Marinette agrees, and yawns, garbling her next question.</p><p>"Why ask anyone—" Marinette twitches at Master Fù's voice. "—who has only transformed a few times to wield a second Miraculous, when someone who has transformed many times over the decades—"</p><p>"Grandpa, you <em>didn't</em>." Marinette pokes Adrien in the shoulder. "Ride over there, please."</p><p>Getting to his feet without dropping her is easier when he can watch her eyes while he's first getting himself up, then getting her up. Adrien is so colossally fucked.</p><p>"Master should be okay," volunteers a kwami, who (Adrien sees, once he can see over the other half of the sofa) is now perching on Master Fù's shoulder. (This one's gray: the Goat?) "Miraculous Cure helped with most of the damage from severing the bond, and as long as anyone else wielding me is only temporary, the rest won't get worse."</p><p>Adrien deposits Marinette in the sofa's corner seat, eyeing Master Fù and the Goat kwami. "Most of the what?" Severing—like how the Ladybug earrings are currently on <em>Adrien's</em> ears?</p><p>Marinette's frowning. "You didn't tell Carapace anything different," she says, tilting sideways to lean on Master Fù, "because you didn't tell him anything… Did Wayzz—?"</p><p>"I don't know, ask Carapace or Rena R—"</p><p>Adrien stops.</p><p>In Mandarin, Adrien begins methodically insulting himself, his father, and every member of his paternal line.</p><p>He's sitting next to Marinette (her legs somehow in his lap again, his face in his hands) and has gotten halfway through calling his grandfather a less talented interior designer than any child with two cinderblocks, five twigs, and a handful of rotten eggs to decorate with when the apartment door opens again: "Chat Noir, is something wrong?" Mme Cheng asks.</p><p>"Several things," Marinette says, not looking up. "I'm guessing he told Carapace to keep the Turtle Miraculous and it turns out that was a mistake. Not that Chat's father doesn't deserve everything he's saying," she adds, "but Chat shouldn't be upset with himself over this unless he's upset with me too. Do I smell tea?"</p><p>"I'll brew more," Mme Cheng says at once. "Monsieur, Madame, may I offer you—"</p><p>"Yes please," says Mme Lenoir, while Adrien tries to figure out how <em>Chat Noir</em> telling Carapace and the others he saw no problem with their keeping their Miraculouses—when only Bunnyx hadn't already gotten Ladybug's little speech about being trustworthy enough to give them back—is <em>Ladybug</em>'s fault.</p><p>Master Fù shakes his head. "Madame Cheng, I should be serving tea to your family."</p><p>"Yes, he enjoys jasmine tea," says Marinette, thumbs flashing across a phone screen. "He would probably appreciate lunch, too, since he missed breakfast. So would I, and Chat Noir can always eat, but I'm not asking for wonton soup, I'll spill more than I eat. And if anyone starts apologizing to anyone else, we will be here all month."</p><p>If she says so. "What do we mean by 'severing the bond'?" Adrien asks. "Do we need to worry about anyone else when and if they return their Miraculouses?" Because that must be it: neither Wayzz nor Master Fù had any say in Nino becoming the permanent Turtle wielder, and Nino had no reason to think Chat Noir wasn't, or shouldn't have been, telling him he <em>was</em>. "Or is it only a problem for people who aren't in good health?" Wait. "Or, no, you're in excellent health for an octogenarian, aren't you? I refuse to worry about Hawkmoth and Mayura," he adds, attention firmly on one of the safety pins keeping Alya's lounge pants from hanging too loosely around Marinette's knee. "They should be handcuffed to hospital beds by now anyway, where they get to be somebody else's problem."</p><p>"Hospital beds? No, wait." Marinette's voice is still flatter than Adrien's happy with. "Chaton, did you only leave Grandpa one regrettable voicemail last night, or more than one?"</p><p>"Excuse you, I left zero regrettable voicemails last night."</p><p>"That's what I thought." Marinette puts the phone to her ear: Adrien can hear the automated "<i>Please enter your PIN</i>", his snapped "<i>I know I—</i>" and "<i>Message deleted</i>," his furious "<i>I don't know how—</i>" and "<i>Message deleted. End of messages.</i>" She hangs up and drops the phone on top of the Miracle Box. "Your lockscreen PIN is now the date I met you, day and month, and no, I don't mean before Stoneheart or after Volpina," she tells Master Fù. "My partner has been tearing himself apart for a <em>year</em> over my keeping your secrets, when your phone, containing photos and <em>plain French transcriptions</em> of that grimoire, doesn't even <em>lock</em>. Oh, and 1-8-3-2 is a crappy voicemail PIN, change that."</p><p>"…What was wrong with it before you said it aloud?" Adrien wonders.</p><p>"Same reason Papa's PIN shouldn't be 1-9-7-9. Using birth years for PINs is like securing stuff with bent basting pins. There's safer ways to do this." Marinette pushes herself far enough up to tilt her torso into Adrien's lap too; he shifts to hold her more comfortably. "Grandpa, I love you," she continues (mostly obscuring the sound of Mme Cheng mumbling "Forty. Her father is <em>forty</em>. She is probably a teenager!" while she rattles around the kitchen, ignoring the other arithmetic problem), "but if I hear one more word about <em>my partner</em> being too reckless, I'm putting laxatives in all your macarons."</p><p>Mme Lenoir sniffs.</p><p>"You stole my phone," says Master Fù, slowly and disbelievingly.</p><p>"Sometimes I steal things. You knew that. I usually put them back."</p><p>Adrien decides not to go anywhere near any of that. <em>Especially</em> not any of the wisecracks that might spring from 'things' meaning 'Adrien's heart'. "Do we need to worry about any of our teammates being hurt by giving up their Miraculouses?" he repeats.</p><p>Master Fù hesitates. "…I am not the local expert on that," he says delicately.</p><p>"Mme Cheng has already seen at least two of our kwamis," Adrien informs him, and, more to the point, the Goat kwami. "Chavignol there can come out if they like."</p><p><a id="return19" name="return19"></a>"Chavignol?"<sup>[<a href="#note19">19</a>]</sup> asks the Goat, peeking out of Master Fù's hair. "—Oh! Because it's <em>not</em> my name!"</p><p>"Does your kwami really answer to Cheese Gremlin?" Marinette asks Adrien's shirt sleeve. "I've been wondering."</p><p>Plagg must hate him. "…You could find out. I guess."</p><p>Marinette lifts her head. "Is he upset you killed Hawkmoth?"</p><p>Master Fù squawks.</p><p>Adrien smacks his forehead with the hand he's surprised to discover doesn't have his ring. "I doubt it, since my kwami didn't tell Carapace to fuck off with that hypothetical. Also, last I knew Hawkmoth's not dead." He contemplates that bare hand, Marinette twisting to do the same; Mme Cheng, pouring tea at the low table, looks up as well. "If he <em>dropped</em> dead, that would be super convenient." <em>Super</em> convenient. "And I made it crystal clear that he and Mayura only got to live because you don't want them to die. But—"</p><p>"I meant to kill him," blurts Marinette.</p><p>Ringing silence.</p><p>He can hear her heart again: loud, frantic piano, played with hands shaky on the keys. He doesn't know if he's trying to hear that. "I meant to kill him," Marinette repeats, pace picking up. "If he didn't give up. I meant to. I told you we were bluffing, I <em>told</em> you I wouldn't ask that, but he wasn't going to fall for it unless they thought we meant it and he almost didn't anyway and I was going to do it and I <em>froze</em>, you should hate me, I don't know why you don't hate me—"</p><p>Adrien pulls her closer, the hand that didn't kill her rubbing soothing circles on her back, the cotton on his shoulder growing damp with tears. "Madame," he says to Marinette's mother, "would you please go get your husband and however many of our kwamis want to come join us?"</p><p>Mme Cheng nods, swallowing, and leaves.</p><p>Adrien eyes Master Fù and Chavignol both, while Mme Lenoir reaches for one of the teacups. "I hope you would have said by now if it were going to be a problem," he says, not convinced of this, "but seriously, do I have to worry that playing musical Miraculouses like this is going to fuck her up any worse? Because I'm not sure you noticed, but she isn't doing too hot right now!"</p><p>"Voluntary surrender of a Miraculous isn't dangerous," Chavignol says.</p><p>"So this might complicate Mayura's health," Adrien thinks out loud, "but not Hawkmoth's. Or, returning to topics worth caring about, Ladybug's."</p><p>"None of this is your fault," murmurs Marinette. "Adrien, I promise, <em>none</em> of this is your fault."</p><p>Adrien stares down at the loose black hair falling across Marinette's shoulder. "When did—oh. I <em>knew</em> I should have hair-sprayed this thing to my head last night." He's not sorry he didn't, though: the mask is only now starting to irritate him, and even that is mostly dried tears, not finely knit cotton. "All right, I'll bite, what was the real plan?"</p><p>She huffs. "All the real plans involved me being able to stand without falling on my nose."</p><p>"Marinette."</p><p>"Look, if I can break the Tour Eiffel, I can break his fucking neck," she snaps. Her voice stays fragile, her melody quieter but faster: "I didn't want to ask <em>you</em> to, I don't care if you said you would, I didn't want to break <em>you</em>—and I didn't want to ask anyone else, even if I could have by then and be sure he wouldn't get away anyway—<em>I'm</em> the leader, <em>I'm</em> who's responsible, I can't tell Arashi or Carapace to do anything I don't want to be responsible for—"</p><p>Plagg zooms through Adrien's head (leaving Adrien blinking stars and tears out of his eyes) and tucks himself up against both their hearts, purring up a storm. The door clicks open again.</p><p>"But I <em>froze</em>," Marinette sobs.</p><p>"So you really <em>weren't</em> planning on dying," Adrien says, dizzy with—something. "That wasn't even—" He can't. He cannot.</p><p>"And it scares me, how little that bothered you." (How <em>little</em>—?) She's turning, breath unsteady, to hold him—or try to hold him—as fiercely as he's holding her. "Don't leave me. Don't <em>leave</em> me."</p><p>"I thought I was following you! I thought—"</p><p>Didn't Adrien invade her privacy enough just by <em>feeling</em> this? But he doesn't think he can stand right now even without carrying her, so he can't tell her this privately—not without the phones he's pretty sure at least one of them left at Chloé's—and the only other person here who might leave if he asked is Mme Lenoir.</p><p>"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry—" Adrien's having trouble breathing himself, now. "—I don't remember getting in bed with you last night. Not my side of it. Not <em>my</em> memory. But you called Miraculous Cure and you passed out on me <em>again</em> and you didn't—you were thinking it was just like that, you felt safe and—" <i>loved</i> "—relieved and—you didn't want to wake up, you—I—"</p><p>"When have I ever wanted to wake up?"</p><p>She sounds honestly perplexed.</p><p>"Ask my kwami," Marinette says. "Ask my mother! When in my life have I ever—" She stops. Draws one long breath. "But you were thinking I'm suicidal before we even got to his house. Weren't you."</p><p>"Aren't you?"</p><p>Adrien immediately wants to take that back. She's saying she's <em>not</em>. That's good, if true, but—</p><p>So much of this was because Marinette hates liars. Marinette <em>is</em> a liar, but why tell her that? <em>Why</em> remind her to hate herself?</p><p>"What was I supposed to think?" Adrien asks when a knife on a chopping board and a pot coming to a boil have been the only sounds for too long. "Kwamibuster. I thought, both my girls are being reckless. Like, my princess hasn't touched <em>any</em> Miraculouses and here my lady's asking her to wield <em>two</em>—but <em>only</em> two. And one of them's the Cat but the other definitely isn't the Ladybug. She has better odds of dying from falling down the stairs."</p><p>Marinette huffs, but Adrien checked Plagg's math against cause of death statistics. —After the fact. It hadn't once occurred to him that it was <em>possible</em> to wield two Miraculouses at once, the alarming possibility of Ladybug and Black Cat aside, until he saw Marinette do it. Even then, he hadn't thought to worry until she dragged herself into the classroom the next morning, looking half dead.</p><p>"And Miraculous Cure would fix her anyway," Adrien continues. "And my lady probably only stayed Fox long enough to tell my princess her plan, and my lady needed as many kwamis to play distraction as possible. No dual-wielding, not really. I might've liked her to share, but that might waste more time than it was worth, and it wouldn't hurt her not to anyway. I didn't have to be scared." Adrien swallows. "But you would have been safer jumping in a bathtub with a live wire."</p><p>He hasn't done the math. He doesn't <em>want</em> to do the math. He hasn't done the math on their odds of surviving more than one hundred akuma battles without (if they discount Stoneheart) a single loss, either.</p><p>"It was not as reckless as all that," ventures Master Fù.</p><p>Adrien snaps his head up to stare at him. "She spent seven minutes as a whole mischief of Multimice. More if she used Multitude before she got close to the tower. She used Cataclysm and Lucky Charm maybe fifteen seconds apart. I don't know if she finished with Multitude before she started with Mirage or not, but I definitely remember seeing her beside herself. That's four."</p><p>Mme Cheng must know, and Marinette <em>should</em> know, how much sì sounds like sǐ. The falling tone of four and the low tone of death. (Five would be worse but that's not his point.)</p><p>"That's <em>four</em> active Miraculouses, <em>at once</em>, plus what, eleven more passive ones? Twelve? <em>Thirteen</em>?" Did Wayzz stay with Master Fù? That would be sensible, but Adrien's luck being what it is—</p><p>"Twelve." Marinette braces her hands on his shoulders; Adrien loosens his hold enough she can sit up to look at him without wobbling too horribly. (Plagg's claws stay dug into Adrien's shirt.) "What would you have done?"</p><p>"Uh." Adrien frowns at one of the freckles on her nose. "Um. You do Mirage so Kwamibuster couldn't see us, or at least to get her to look somewhere else. You give me half the Miraculouses. <em>I</em> do Multitude, get caught, combine Rat and Cat, blow up the vacuum cleaner from inside. <em>Then</em> you combine Fox and Ladybug and handle the rest."</p><p>Marinette blinks a lot, nibbling her lip, and finally says, "Well, <em>shit</em>."</p><p>"I told him he would never be able to outsmart either of you," Nooroo says smugly from—Adrien looks around—the dining table, where they're perched next to Tikki (now a much healthier-looking magenta, though her expression says she's still miserable) and Duusu and a platter of what's most likely yesterday's unsold macarons. "He didn't believe me."</p><p>"Oh, you shut up," Adrien grumbles.</p><p>Nooroo smirks. "No."</p><p>Plagg shoots up in front of Adrien's nose. "Kit. <em>What did you do?</em>"</p><p>"Something I should have thought of a year ago." Adrien tries to look away, but the thing about little flying gods is they're really maneuverable; Plagg's pupils are almost round. Adrien doesn't understand. "I fucked up the loophole anyway."</p><p>Marinette eyes him. "Uh-<em>huh</em>." She glances around: "Hey, you two. Red and Blue. Come here, please. Chaton," she adds as Duusu soars over holding Tikki, "get me upstairs."</p><p>M. Dupain sets some utensil down with a click. "Are you sure you'll be all right if you leave?"</p><p>"Who said I'm going farther than—" She yawns. "—than the bathroom?"</p><p>"I don't know," Adrien says, working out how to get upright without letting go of her, "bed sounds like a good idea."</p><p>"Yeah, but you're still all orange juiced and sticky," Marinette points out, as though that matters to anything other than why Adrien didn't lean back against the sofa. "And I'm almost due for more ibuprofen and a fresh pad."</p><p>Master Fù makes an inarticulate distressed sound, staring into space. Mme Lenoir covers her mouth and pretends she isn't snickering.</p><p>"Let me—" Mme Cheng begins; Marinette snaps, "No."</p><p>Oh, joy. Adrien contemplates the relative diameters of Tom Dupain's left bicep and both Adrien's thighs combined, and how much fun it was last time he got in a fistfight with this particular protective father. "Sooo there isn't going to be a good time to say this," he says. "Ladybug, your parents don't know where you are."</p><p>Marinette thumps him in the shoulder, distracting Adrien enough to overbalance back onto the sofa; Duusu and Tikki dart out of the way. "I think I misheard you," she tells him, each word sharp. "I thought I heard you say you thought I was dying, and you brought me <em>here</em>, and <em>my parents do not know where I am</em>."</p><p>"Well, when you put it like that," grumps Plagg, "it sounds bad."</p><p>Mme Cheng and M. Dupain are glancing at each other, whispering in German. Adrien gulps and reaches for Marinette's mask.</p><p>She grabs his wrist. "Don't! They'll, they'll know I, I lied, they'll be, they'll be disappointed—"</p><p>The fuck they will. "Last night—"</p><p>"<em>Don't</em>!" She's shaking again. "Last night. He wouldn't—he—he made me forget. He thought I didn't tell you. Today he knew we knew. So he—so he—"</p><p>It takes a moment to remember which father she means. "So he made you remember," Adrien says. He wants to be sick.</p><p>Marinette nods. Adrien abandons the thought of telling her where he thinks she learned heroism.</p><p>"Do you want them to know?" he asks instead. She hesitates a heartbeat, nerves shrilling an octave above high C, then nods again. "Your parents are proud of you," he tells her, moving to cradle her head in his hand, the better to hide her face in his shoulder. "They're ridiculously pleased with the daughter they think they have—" Adrien saw the whole family at the fashion show Style Queen crashed. He <em>knows</em>. "—and once they know how much more there is to be proud of…"</p><p>Adrien pauses, easing her mask undone.</p><p>"Okay, honestly, I think your mother's going to flip out. She sort of was already when she realized if your father is forty then you probably aren't more than twenty." Adrien isn't sure whether to look toward the kitchen—whether to watch Marinette's parents start connecting the dots. "Though now I'm worried about how old he thinks <em>I</em> am, considering—" On second thought he is not going to remind anyone of <em>anything</em> about Papa-Garou.</p><p>"Magic," Marinette mumbles. Her cloth mask stays caught between Adrien's fingers as she turns her head.</p><p>Mme Cheng muffles a shriek. M. Dupain squawks "—Marinette!", rushing to crush both his daughter and her partner in the warmest of hugs.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><a id="note17" name="note17"></a><i>17:</i> Arabic 'al-Ḥamdu lillāh': 'praise be to God'. <sup>[<a href="#return17">return</a>]</sup></p><p><a id="note18" name="note18"></a><i>18:</i> 75° Celsius is the "cook it <em>well</em> done" guideline for meat safety, because that is the temperature at which any bacteria or parasites in the meat have definitely been killed dead. The similar guideline in US cookbooks is 170° Fahrenheit, because home cooks like round numbers, I guess. Meat cooked medium rare has a rather lower internal temperature, which is safe to eat if no bacteria or parasites were present to begin with. <sup>[<a href="#return18">return</a>]</sup></p><p><a id="note19" name="note19"></a><i>19:</i> Crottin de Chavignol is a specific French goat cheese. <sup>[<a href="#return19">return</a>]</sup><br/> </p><p>If any of my work has ever touched your heart: you are why I publish. Not why I write—that's because the stories in my head don't shut up otherwise!—but why I show anyone.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. well-loved hands</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>All of the water in the river<br/>was whispering, "Stay where you are,"<br/>then I asked, "But for how long?" and I got no answer<br/>because I remembered that the river was frozen<br/>so, when I woke up, I squandered<br/>the forty new seconds of daylight<br/>rubbing my eyes<br/>thinking there wasn't much hope<br/>of this being a short winter<br/>until I reached across the bed<br/>where my living wife was sleeping,<br/>under a tangle of quilts<br/>as warm and as fragrant<br/>as spring.</p><p>—<i>excerpted from</i> "<a href="https://poetry.dreamwidth.org/209135.html">mid-winter miracle</a>", John Straley, in <i><a href="https://buildingtheamericanrepublic.org/ucp/books/book/distributed/R/bo6166374.html">The Rising and the Rain</a></i></p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter-specific content notes are in the chapter end notes.<br/> </p><p>so the conceit of "everyone is speaking and thinking in French unless otherwise stated and I am merely translating into English" is…not going to hold so well with the song lyrics, is it…</p><p>(already hasn't, really, since none of Florence Welch, Peggy Lee, and the cast of Elton John's <i>Aida</i> are singing in French)</p><p>also this is the chapter I was writing when I realized just how badly I was confusing myself on the canon layout of Marinette's home. and achieving canon compliance with "New York" and "Vérité" was easy, so I did it; with "Shanghai" and "Furious Fu", it isn't, so I won't.<br/> </p><p>If you haven't been by chapter 6 since January 22, you probably won't have seen <a href="https://buggachat.tumblr.com"><b>buggachat</b></a>'s <a href="https://buggachat.tumblr.com/post/641063743763234817/commission-for-alexseanchai-taken-from-chapter-6">illustration of the end of the chapter</a>; isn't it <em>beautiful</em>?<a id="random05" name="random05"></a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rena hears the exuberance in Place des Vosges from several blocks away: upbeat percussion, hundreds of handclaps, bass and keyboard and guitar, Clara Nightingale's exultant voice:</p><p>"Where have all the good ones gone, and where are all the gods? Where's the streetwise Hercules—" ("bold Atalanta, stubborn Psyché," Rose weaves around Clara's vocals) "—to fight the rising odds? Isn't there a red knight—" ("black knight") "—upon a dappled steed?" ("noble steed?") "—Late at night I toss and I turn—"</p><p>"Crash this party?" Rena mutters, landing on Lila's building's roof. From this angle they have a great view of one of the big canvas projection screens Clara's team have set up on either side of the portable stage, though the other one blocks most of their view of the stage itself, and the camera operator is focused on Clara and on Rose in her unicorn-kitty mask.</p><p>Carapace glances north, toward Marinette's balcony.</p><p>"I need a hero!" sing Clara and Rose together.</p><p>Rena vaults north.</p><p>"She's gotta be strong," sings Rose as Rena and Carapace land (whoever's on live captions hastily fixes the pronoun to match the sung lyrics), "and he's gotta be fast," sings Clara as the clapping, cheering crowd turns to spot their heroes on the roof of a home burned last night, "and they've gotta be fresh from the fight!" sing both vocalists. Clara at least is missing the irony.</p><p>Two floors down, water is running. "—number seventeen," Marinette murmurs, frayed and worn as she's sounded for months. "Not the white one."</p><p>"I know, dear." Mme Cheng: steady and cheery.</p><p>"Why not the white one?" asks Adrien, gravelly and scraped raw as he's never sounded before.</p><p>"They're here!" Rena tells Carapace, heart racing in time with the music. "They're both talking to her mother."</p><p>"They're <em>alive</em>," he whispers, grinning bright-eyed, and glances at the people surrounding the stage. "Uh. Sneak in downstairs?"</p><p>Rena shakes their head. "Sounds like he's showering."</p><p>Carapace opens his mouth and promptly clamps it shut again. Rena blinks. Carapace confides, "I don't think I can rib him about showering just to trick her into seeing him naked anymore!"</p><p>"Yeah, if you do, I'm not saving you." Alya already knew why overhearing that particular joke turned Marinette raspberry colors. They thought. Rena jerks their head at the concert. "Crash the party? Share the good news? Let him get dressed before we drown them in hugs?"</p><p>He nods.</p><p>"Racing on the thunder," sings Rose.</p><p>"You know," Carapace thinks aloud, "if we time this right…"</p><p>Rena grins.</p><p>"It's gonna take a superhero to sweep me off my feet!" sing Clara and Rose as Rena and Carapace hurriedly plot their approach. "I need a hero!"</p><p>Two heroes stick the landing on the stage.</p><p>The music crashes to a halt. "Rena Rouge! Carapace!" exclaims Rose. "Are Ladybug and Chat Noir all right?" She immediately presses her mic into Rena's hands—Rena almost drops it—and darts away to hide next to Juleka and her bass guitar.</p><p>Rena flicks a glance at Carapace (who hasn't stopped grinning, but moves reassuringly closer), and gulps, and tells the world "They're alive."</p><p>A deafening glad roar from the crowd. Rena can see Marc and Nathaniel embracing, Mylène cheering, Ondine applauding, Mireille and Aurore jumping for joy.</p><p>Further back on the stage, Luka on guitar and—Rena does a double take at the keyboardist—Jagged Stone improvise an interweaving melody riffing off (they bet) 'Mirockulous'. Rena stays quiet and lets them.</p><p>Carapace finally takes the mic away from Rena. "Paris," he says, and repeats it twice more until the crowd quiets. Whoever's at the soundboard must turn down the inputs from the keyboard and guitar as well. "Paris," Carapace says again, "I don't want to find out about anyone bothering Ladybug or Chat Noir for a single thing until March. At the <em>absolute</em> earliest. They have been working themselves to the bone for almost a year and a half now to keep us all safe. We owe them some peace and quiet to heal."</p><p>"Don't pester us or any of our teammates, either," Rena adds, leaning in to the mic. "Or anyone who's been in the blast radius of more than two akuma attacks." Which covers the entire class and then some. "Not if you're not very good friends with them already."</p><p>"In particular," Carapace continues, "I do not want anyone upsetting either last night's akuma victim or Hawkmoth's son."</p><p>Abrupt silence.</p><p>"Adrien did not know anything," Carapace tells Paris. "I haven't had the chance to ask if he suspected anything—" (Accurate, Rena thinks, since Adrien volunteered that himself.) "—but I doubt he did. Because the moment Adrien <em>did</em> suspect anything, he would have gone running to his friends and flagged down Ladybug. And Marinette doesn't remember the hell she put herself through in order to make sure Ladybug and Chat Noir knew she found out who Hawkmoth is. But her parents and friends don't have the luxury of forgetting."</p><p>Whispering and murmuring. A number of faces turn toward the park corner where the heroes' statue stands, where Tom &amp; Sabine's stands just across the street.</p><p>Rena steals back the mic. "I gotta say," they add, more pointedly bouncy, turning to smile at Clara and (a couple paces behind her) Rose and Juleka, "I love the concert set so far." Clara beams. "I heard how you changed these lyrics, I see what you did there, I approve—<em>but</em>. I notice there's one line you didn't change."</p><p>"Is it 'larger than life'?" asks Carapace. "I bet it's 'larger than life'."</p><p>"It is." Rena surveys the crowd. "Chat Noir's father and stepmother beat him." The words thud into the quiet park. "I say it like that's the worst of it, instead of only the best hidden; he won't agree, but I see one or two of you who I know for a fact have said the part that Chat Noir thinks is worst is only his father being strict."</p><p>They mean Mylène, not that they'll ever admit that, but Carapace taps their shoulder and flicks a couple fingers toward the back of the crowd, where the Gorilla is hovering, jacket-less and looking lost. Rena's not done, though: "Some of Ladybug's classmates bully her. They have done for years. I don't think anyone looking at our heroes even thought to wonder what's been going on behind those masks—the Ladyblogger definitely didn't," Rena adds, biting back most of the fury. "And why would we? They're <em>superheroes</em>. They're larger than life.</p><p>"I know neither her friends nor his knew how bad it was. Not least because they've both been lying to everyone and breaking promises to their friends so they could keep their loved ones safe and keep their promises to our city." Rena swallows, like swallowing broken glass. "But I feel like we <em>should</em> have known. I feel like we should have noticed. Should have <em>done something</em>."</p><p>"Done what?" Carapace asks. "Kidnap him onto a pirate ship and weigh anchor for the Caribbean? Keelhaul her bullies along the way?" (Luka audibly facepalms.) "We're sixteen years old, dude, keeping our friends safe like that is supposed to be above our pay grade!"</p><p>"You guys are getting paid?" Rose interjects, leaning up to Clara's mic. A scatter of laughter.</p><p>"Paid? In <em>this</em> economy?" retorts Carapace. Louder laughter, more nervous.</p><p>"And I know neither her teachers nor his knew how bad it was either." Nor is Rena willing to admit how much overlap those have. "But I know some of them knew something, and did <em>nothing</em>."</p><p>Silence.</p><p>"The day Hawkmoth first attacked, I'm told," Carapace says, "maybe even before Ladybug was Ladybug, her best friend quoted an American superhero." Rena, guessing where that's going, flicks out her flute screen to send one quick text to two people. " 'All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing,' Majestia says. I want you all to appreciate just how thoroughly Ladybug took that to heart."</p><p>Mylène checks her phone, gawks at her phone, and starts pushing through the crowd toward the stage Ivan just jumped off. That looks enough like a yes that Rena says, "I also want you all to appreciate two people in particular who showed extraordinary courage last night. Those of you who have been akumatized know exactly how frightening it is to blink twice and find yourself somewhere else twenty minutes later, watching Ladybug and Chat Noir do their fistbump, and wondering what awful things you did.</p><p>"This girl knows exactly what awful things she did as an akuma, because one of her classmates filmed the whole attack for an indie movie festival." (Carapace huffs, moving closer just to poke Rena in the side more discreetly; Rena ignores him.) "In some ways that's worse than not knowing. But last night she saw the video we recorded to tell all of you to be patient and don't lose hope, and she and her boyfriend volunteered to come stand guard. So that if the purple butterfly came back for Marinette before we were ready, we would be dealing with Horrificator, not a swarm of Firebugs. This is the same girl who already got kidnapped by a swarm of Stonehearts."</p><p>"Rena says 'we'." Carapace is leaning over Rena's shoulder to say this now, warm and strong at their back, and Ivan is climbing onto the stage he just boosted Mylène on to. "They mostly mean 'he', since the part the boyfriend volunteered for is getting between Horrificator and anyone feeling the least bit of fear. Let's hear it for Ivan Bruel and <em>Mylène Haprèle</em>!"</p><p>A storm of applause. Mylène, strawberry pink, motions for a mic, which Rena hands over at once, wanting off this stage. Mylène leans back against Ivan, clears her throat, and says, "I'd like to thank the Academy—"</p><p>Rena about dies laughing. Carapace has to physically pick them up and leap up into a tree.</p><p>"It wasn't that funny," Mylène mumbles, though the sound system still amplifies her just fine. More distinctly, she says, "And it wasn't just me and Ivan. Nathaniel and Marc showed up for the same reason. So did Luka and Juleka." Offstage, Ondine hoists a vividly blushing Marc onto her shoulders, and Aurore and Mireille and another of their classmates heave Nathaniel (who's hiding half his face) onto theirs; onstage, Luka waves, Jagged and Clara lead the applause, and Juleka tries to hide behind Rose. Mylène gulps: "Um, while I'm here, I have one song request? Could you do a Rachel Platten cover?"</p><p>"Mirage so nobody sees us get there?" Carapace murmurs.</p><p>"Only, Rose, I want you to change the pronouns," Mylène continues. "Rena Rouge is right about how we have been treating Ladybug and Chat Noir—I think—"</p><p>Nice catch, thinks Rena. "Have Wayzz unlock it?" Even if that disrupts the illusion, the modular trick means Rena shouldn't become visible, only Nino, who shouldn't draw attention. Carapace nods; Rena casts the spell.</p><p>Mylène hasn't paused: "—but we have all been fighting Hawkmoth as long as they have. Sometimes by helping with akuma attacks. Mostly by helping each other. This is <em>our</em> fight song! Take back <em>our</em> life song!"</p><p>Paris cheers.</p>
<hr/><p>Tom raps on the bathroom door. Adrien's already halfway to standing, having heard him coming. Not heard him coming. Whatever. How long did Gabriel wield the Butterfly Miraculous? Is it even possible to ask that without sounding like he's blaming Nooroo for how distant a parent Gabriel was?</p><p>"Cupcake, I did not find a single shirt, blouse, or jacket you own that you did not sew," Tom says, passing a stack of clothing through the cracked-open door; the seam ripper Marinette asked for sits on top of folded neon tangerine fabric, and below that are neon lime, rose red, and charcoal. "Maybe pretend you borrowed a shirt from your partner?"</p><p>Behind Adrien, Sabine snorts. "What do you think the seam ripper's for?" The bathtub starts draining with a loud glug; Adrien reaches for the fluffiest leaf-green towel. "Chat Noir, would—oh." Sabine takes the towel he holds out behind him.</p><p>"…What <em>is</em> the seam ripper for?"</p><p>Adrien plops the stack of clothing on the bath mat and leans back against the bathtub again, reaching for his hoodie. "She wants the Gabriel Fashions logo off of the hoodie she's stealing." Oh, the sharp part of the seam ripper is the inside of the little metal U-curve, and the pointy bit must go between the stitches and the fabric; that makes sense. "I'm just annoyed I didn't think of that first." He'll have to ask Luka where to get secondhand— "Ow!"</p><p>"Poke your finger?" Marinette asks tiredly, with splashing sounds that suggest Sabine is helping her up.</p><p>Adrien glares at the offending finger, and also at the golden embroidery he's failing to destroy.</p><p>"I said I'd do it," Sabine reminds him. Adrien places his fingers better and stabs at the logo again.</p><p>"Chaton, your hands are trembling." Marinette plants one cold hand on Adrien's shoulder for balance while she—falls into his open arms trying to steal the seam ripper.</p><p>"Marinette?" asks Tom.</p><p>Adrien, torso twisted halfway around to catch her, eases her into his lap without opening his eyes. "My hands were fine." They probably were trembling, but that's beside the point. "Yours are freezing." He doesn't <em>think</em> he's missing time, but how long did she stay in the tub, that she's this cold getting out of it? "Did I not have the water warm enough?"</p><p>"The water's scalding," Marinette complains, and yawns. "Are you coming down with something? Because you're hot."</p><p>No, he's blushing. That happens when naked girls fall in his lap. And she's magically injured, or something, and has never been interested in him. "Your pickup lines need work," Adrien tells her anyway.</p><p>"The water's lukewarm," Sabine says. "Tom, she said wonton soup earlier."</p><p>"On it," Tom says at once, and clatters down the stairs, the bass woodwinds sounds retreating with him.</p><p>Sabine's handbells remain. "Let's get you up and dry and dressed," she tells Marinette, giving Adrien enough warning not to flinch from Sabine's touch as she scoops Marinette up. "Are you stealing the orange or green shirt from Adrien?"</p><p>Adrien himself braces on the side of the tub to stand up. "Since when does Adrien have neon—wait." Turning away from the women means he can open his eyes without fearing parental wrath. "You made Adrien clothes his father would hate?"</p><p>Marinette is laughing at him. He can tell from how her piano melody is dancing up and down the scale. "Do you want the friction pun shirt or the gravity pun shirt?"</p><p><i>Marry me,</i> Adrien narrowly avoids saying. "Gravity. Please." (Probably it is not a 'fall for me' joke, and probably the other one isn't a sex joke, but…) "Sabine, I think she was running cold last night too," he adds, stripping off Nino's shirt; the fabric mask comes with it.</p><p>He's not trying to show off or anything—Adrien might have a few days ago, Marinette's especially cute when flustered, but no way has Ladybug's opinion of Chat Noir's ego changed—but he hears Marinette "meep!" anyway.</p><p>"Not this cold, and I was more worried about the bleeding," Adrien continues, considering the frosted glass on the bathtub's shower doors, "so I'm not sure." Screw it, he'll deal with wet jeans cuffs; it's not like there's not already damp spots, and the tub has drained enough he can easily avoid the floating red gobs, if not the soap suds. "But I think she was her usual temperature yesterday morning."</p><p>Through the frosted glass, Adrien can see the black-framed pink blob of Marinette's face, pink mostly by contrast with the green that Sabine (a black-topped blur) wraps around Marinette's hair. "Dare I ask how you know that?" Sabine wonders.</p><p>The piano motif hits a sustained E-flat; he bets he knows exactly what expression Marinette's wearing. Adrien balances on one foot to get the other leg out of his jeans. "Hey, LB, may I ask an invasive question?" It is probably not his most subtle change of topic.</p><p>"Chaton, the only secrets I'm keeping from you anymore are things you don't want to know anyway." Hey, he resents that. Marinette's tone shifts from tired to tiredly amused: "Like what's in that brightly wrapped package in my trunk with your name on it."</p><p>"Oh." Good point. Which name? —Never mind. Adrien starts rolling up his boxers in his jeans to drop outside the tub, or to toss to land somewhere that isn't where he already threw the hoodie and seam ripper, whatever. "How usual is it that you're tired and cold and growly when you're on your period?"</p><p>Sabine makes a startled sound. Marinette groans.</p><p>"Sorry," says Adrien. The shower doors won't quite finish closing…</p><p>"No, you're fine." Marinette looks less fine, slumping as she is into Sabine's hug. "Growly before and during, yes. Cold, no. Tired, sort of? I patrol more those weeks so I have to put up with cramps less."</p><p>"Huh. I never noticed a pattern." Adrien starts the shower. "—Wait."</p><p>"Shut up," Marinette grumbles. "Maman, I can do it myself," she adds, tugging the bright orange thing out of Sabine's grasp.</p><p>"Bug." Adrien raises his voice enough to still be heard. "Warm, fed, resting, <em>then</em> independent and self-reliant." <em>Oh</em>, the warm water feels good. "Please."</p><p>"You think her core temperature is related to the injuries Hawkmoth inflicted," Sabine realizes.</p><p>"You make me sound so certain," says Adrien, who was thinking no such thing. But that might be where that train of thought was always going. "Seems likely, though, doesn't it?"</p><p>Marinette groans some more. "Remind me why we're letting him live? I don't <em>care</em> how much he said we'd regret killing him."</p><p>Adrien snorts and doesn't answer. "You're about to have guests," he says, hearing approaching violin and cello melodies, joyous with a twitch of fear on one part, anger on the other, and pain in both. Fuck, he owes them both so many apologies. He can't say who either of them are, though, not with Sabine listening: if the pair of best friends he names isn't the pair she sees arrive, that blows Rena Rouge's and Carapace's secrets. "Don't worry, they're friendly."</p>
<hr/><p>Alya hovers awkwardly by the stairs about where Chat Noir stood last night when this room exploded, feeling Trixx radiating warmth from somewhere around their liver and trying not to wonder where exactly M. Dupain was when Firebug lit the place up. Marinette's father is in the kitchen right now, scooping spoonfuls of meat-and-vegetable paste from a food processor to wonton wrappers (they can smell raw pork), and he's humming to himself, much as he does when baking: there is no trace of pain in the sound, only in the memory.</p><p>Nino squeezes their hand. "Breathe," he murmurs. "Nothing's burning, I promise."</p><p>True. Still.</p><p>"Gold is easy enough to find," says one of the two people seated at the dining table, making a note on her phone. "Perhaps an estate sale—"</p><p>"I have savings older than you are," says the other. The gray kwami perched on top of the large Miraculous box snickers. Alya has many questions; they keep clutching Nino's hand instead of asking any.</p><p>"Hey, cheese thief and cookie thief," Marinette calls from the same direction as the running shower, "go sit on my partner, please."</p><p>"What do you <em>mean</em> you left my kit alone?" demands the small black blur zooming in from behind Alya. Tikki follows Plagg, carrying a chocolate chip cookie bigger than her head.</p><p>"He said he would be okay," Mme Cheng says, descending into view: she's more than half carrying her daughter, who's wearing blood and fire colors—no, no, Alya corrects themself: an orange tee large enough she probably stole it out of one of Adrien's birthday presents while grabbing him one cleaner than Nino's casino shirt, and sweatpants a dark enough pink they're almost red; Marinette also has what looks like Chat Noir's hoodie bundled under her other arm.</p><p>"I don't think he lied," Marinette mutters. "I just don't believe him."</p><p>Alya and Nino glance at each other. Since Nino's probably weighing whether he can leap over both their heads without clobbering his own on the ceiling or either of theirs with his shoes, Alya says, "You two need a hand?"</p><p>Marinette shakes her head, sending a few drops of water flying instead of dripping onto her oversized shirt, and brushes damp hair back from one bare ear; the pinkish metallic ring she's wearing catches the light. "He just got in the shower. Give him ten minutes."</p><p>"I would appreciate a few more hands with the wontons," M. Dupain says without turning around. "I understand I have a special order of matcha macarons to start work on, for Carapace to pick up. You know. When he gets here."</p><p>"If he hasn't already," Mme Cheng says, steering Marinette over to the sofa. "Not that we would know, of course."</p><p>Nino hides his face in his hands. "Wayzz, might as well say hi," he says, even as Marinette says "And you're not going to know, either."</p><p>"Never confirm something you aren't sure someone knows unless you want that fact known, young Turtle wielder," remarks the old white woman. "Hello, Wayzz." She holds out one finger; Wayzz is already across the room, sweeping a tiny bow and kissing her fingertip with all the solemnity of a bridal march.</p><p>Marinette flops over on the sofa out of sight and yells into the upholstery.</p><p>"Go on, Trixx," Alya says, joining M. Dupain in the kitchen while Mme Cheng slides a pillow under Marinette's head and drapes her with a fluffy purple blanket from the basket behind the TV. The wonton filling M. Dupain made is definitely largely pork, but trying to explain the problem with this <em>to</em> him sounds worse than helping him fold wontons. (They could swap with Mme Cheng, they suppose, but they have no idea why she's taking one of Marinette's bright pink seam rippers to Chat Noir's hoodie.) "You must be Ladybug and Chat Noir's benefactor," they say to the old East Asian man. "And you, Madame, you must be their London advisor?"</p><p>"I might have been their advisor if I had ever had a chance to speak to them in private before I needed to leave Paris for my and their safety," she says, speaking English. She doesn't turn away from whatever she and the man are doing on the tabletop; he however shifts over a seat to allow Nino (and Trixx on Nino's shoulder) a better view. "I am not entirely certain you have noticed, ah, Mx. Ladyblogger?" she continues. "But navigating Parisian crowds is harrowing enough when there isn't an akuma attack."</p><p>"How are there more of you." Marinette doesn't lift her head from the pillow. Her voice speeds up as she speaks: "Don't be scared, she said, you're the only one for the job, she said, I didn't read the fine print, and <em>this is my punishment</em>."</p><p>Alya catches Marinette's emphasized syllable, if not the pun she's complaining of, and starts to say Ladybug is an equally unre<em>pun</em>tant jokester (she simply prefers quality to Chat Noir's quantity; it is known), then stops with one wonton half-folded. The shower's still running upstairs, but that definitely sounds like Adrien's voice, and though they can't quite make out the words, they do know the tone. It's too like one of Marinette's when she's trying not to panic. "Nino," they say, "go up and—"</p><p><i>Check on him</i>, they don't finish, because Chat Noir almost bowls Nino over bolting down the stairs to Marinette.</p><p>"Lucky Break," mutters Chat Noir. (Mister Bug? how did Alya ever watch the Reflekdoll battle and recognize neither her heroes nor her friends?) He plants one pink-glowing hand just below one vividly orange sleeve, crouching so he could spring in any direction to defend her or escape with her. Marinette draws a breath, loud in the sudden quiet of the apartment, and murmurs something; Chat Noir blushes, dropping his head: "…oops."</p><p>"No one is going to hurt her, Chat Noir," Alya says, figuring he'll respond faster to that name than any other; he's still on the edge of hyperventilating. "Not here."</p><p>"I told you, kit," adds Plagg, landing on Chat's head. "Nobody's letting anyone hurt her." He glares at the mentor, who immediately refocuses his scrutiny on whatever's on that table.</p><p>"I know," Chat mumbles. "I…"</p><p>Nino, footfalls a little heavier than he needs (Chat's head twitches in his direction), moves to Chat Noir's side. "No one is going to hurt either of you," he says, letting one hand rest on Chat Noir's shoulder. "Not while I'm around."</p><p>Chat Noir half smiles. "Thanks, Nino."</p><p>"No one <em>including either of you</em>," Nino snaps; hesitates, then drops to one knee to throw both arms around his brother. "Never do that again. <em>Never</em> do that to me again."</p><p>"Not planning to." Chat steels himself to let go of Marinette—her breathing promptly accelerates; Alya winces, thinking of all the ways having these two literally joined at the hip is going to go poorly, such as, oh, the shower he abandoned—and turn to throw himself into Nino's hug. "Never wanted to hurt you."</p><p>"You know, I totally believe you," Nino says, "even though my back's kind of on fire right now—"</p><p>"What? —oh." He extinguishes the spell, his face falling. "Sorry."</p><p>Nino sighs. "I keep telling you, dude, you have nothing to apologize to me for." He pauses. "Nobody's telling Chris he was almost the oldest. Nobody's telling my mother, either. <em>You</em>, though," he adds more cheerfully to Marinette as she braces herself on Chat's shoulder to sit up, "you chose that shade of orange just to make my eyes bleed and I <em>know</em> it."</p><p>"—Wait, really? I—"</p><p>"Wait till you see the green one," Chat advises, starting to snicker. "Marinette, he's kidding."</p><p>"He's not," Marinette says at once, then turns to Alya, giving them a clear view of the shirt's black text: <a id="return20" name="return20"></a><i>μ<sub>s</sub> &gt; μ<sub>k</sub>: the hardest part is getting started</i>.<sup>[<a href="#note20">20</a>]</sup> "—Is he?"</p><p>"Oh crap," says Alya, whose joke about Gabriel loathing the thought of Adrien wearing neon is where part of the idea for this one of Marinette's future birthday presents for Adrien came from. "I didn't think of that."</p><p>"Is the neon a problem, Nino?" Marinette asks, shrill; Nino starts laughing, Chat with him. "Nino!" she exclaims. "This is important!"</p><p>Alya seals the last half-wonton's worth of filling in one of the last wonton wrappers. "Shower's still running," they observe, entirely nonchalant and exactly as though they don't know how red Marinette will turn when she clues in, and goes to elbow the faucet on.</p><p>Chat groans, pushing himself up, mostly without letting go of the hug. "Hey, Nino, mind sitting outside the bathroom and talking to me for a bit? I've got something to ask you anyway and I don't know if it's private."</p><p>"No problem. Need anything before you go back up, though?" Nino glances at Mme Cheng, who's—almost done removing the gold thread of the Gabriel logo from that hoodie, okay. "Or are you good?"</p><p>"I'm good on clean outerwear." Chat leans down to run two fingertips from behind Marinette's ear to her collar. "Which is better than I expected."</p><p>Marinette smiles. "Happy early birthday."</p>
<hr/><p>Dropping another towel on the floor means he can leave the shower door partway open without risking <em>too</em> much more water everywhere. "Spots off," mutters Adrien—the warm water feels more soothing on his skin than it did with red armor between, but only just—and flicks his fingers to shoo Tikki over to Nooroo, sitting with their Miraculous on the clothes Marinette made him.</p><p>"Before anything else," Nino says, sitting down in the doorway, "the good news is—"</p><p>"Don't!"</p><p>"Dude, what?"</p><p>Why <em>did</em> Adrien stop him? Why—his heart, ice shards, bleeding—why, at the words <i>good news</i>? "Can it wait?" he asks. No, that's wrong: "Will anyone die or get injured or traumatized if this waits?"</p><p>Nino drums his fingertips on the floor, considering; the only word that suits the violin line of his emotions is 'quietly', which doesn't help. "Some people might be upset," he says after a moment, "but that doesn't have to be your problem. I can warn our class to make sure everybody leaves you alone till you're ready."</p><p>"You better," Plagg says.</p><p>Oh good, Adrien must have an actual reason for wanting to drown himself in the shower rather than think about anything better than all this horrible everything.</p><p>—Not. Not drown himself. Not even say so as a joke. <em>Especially</em> not where Marinette or Nino might hear.</p><p>"You know how the bends works?" Adrien asks. He looked it up at some point; he can't remember why.</p><p>"Yeah, you told me." (Oh.) "I am texting Alya and everyone right now," Nino continues, "to say we are not letting you get emotional decompression sickness. 'Cause, like, dude. That is one nasty high-pressure environment."</p><p>No <em>shit</em>, Adrien doesn't say. "Meanwhile the rest of the city is popping champagne corks."</p><p>Nino snorts. "Most of the city never got worse than shaken up some." (Most of the city died once, Adrien doesn't say.) "You can join the celebrations when it's not gonna make your head explode. Or hers, 'cause like, don't think we didn't notice both of you are way less anxious in touching range of each other than not."</p><p>Adrien winces. They'll have to work on that. Whatever Adrien did that Marinette doesn't want much to do with him—well, most of Adrien's fashion industry connections just evaporated, and he doesn't believe Marinette would use him like that, he <em>doesn't</em>, but maybe that's the point, maybe she wants to keep her distance so no one even <em>thinks</em> that's what she's doing…?</p><p>"—yo! Adrien!" Nino claps twice more. "Yo!"</p><p>"Quit catastrophizing, kit," Plagg adds, flitting through the frosted glass. "Your lady does enough of that for a dozen people."</p><p>"She's not my lady, Plagg," Adrien has to point out. "She said so."</p><p>Plagg huffs. "You're both idiots. —Tikki—!" He darts back to her; Adrien leans out of the shower to find Tikki muffling a scream in the green tee.</p><p>"Did you tell her Chat Noir's name yet?" Nino wonders.</p><p>"I didn't need to. That cloth mask came loose overnight." Adrien finds the rosemary-scented soap bar that must be Marinette's. Probably handcrafted, though he doubts Marinette is who crafted it—he wouldn't put it past her, and rosemary is one of the potted plants on her balcony, but when would she have the time?—and very much not the unscented products he's been stuck with since Father got the idea of having Adrien advertise fragrances. "Yes, that probably means she knows she called herself a hurtful ingrate this morning, and if not, then no, I don't want to tell her."</p><p>"You should," Nino says; the soap slips out of Adrien's hands, thunking into the tub. "That conversation sounded way different before I knew she knew who she was talking to."</p><p>"Nino, you just said you aren't going to let anybody hurt her." Adrien grabs for the soap bar, which shoots right back out of his hand. "Hey!"</p><p>"Adrien. Adrien, breathe with me, okay?" Nino scrambles into the room to grip Adrien's hand, warm and reassuring; he counts off evenly, Adrien trying to inhale for the full count, then exhale for that full count. It's a minute or two before Nino's content enough with the steadiness of Adrien's breathing to ask, "What was the maybe private thing?"</p><p>Subject change, excellent. "I need to figure out what he did to her. Before it gets worse." Because Adrien will be astonished to discover <em>Hawkmoth</em> is the least ruthless of the three of them. He braces himself on the cool porcelain to stand back up. "Lucky Break sounds like it can be a diagnostic tool, right?"</p><p>"Uh, I guess?" Nino shrugs, drying off the arm he just stuck in the shower. "Alya's wondering about how our weapons are all phones. They figure the Miraculous wielders they think they keep finding in art museums had magical instantaneous communication, but they're pretty sure they didn't look even a little bit like they could post to Instagram."</p><p>"I am unable to either confirm or deny whether Alya has successfully identified any historical Miraculous wielders," Adrien says, with a mirthful trace of trickery aforethought. (Alya is right that the black-armored knight in that one painting in the Louvre is a previous Black Cat, Adrien knows, but he feels for the artisans of the red-figure votive pottery Alya's taking as evidence that <a id="return21" name="return21"></a>Herakles was a Miraculous wielder instead of a deity.<sup>[<a href="#note21">21</a>]</sup>) "Ask Wayzz or Trixx."</p><p>"They're always communicators," Plagg says, yawning. "You expected Noodle Play Store, you got Noodle Play Store." Adrien thunks his forehead against the tile.</p><p>Tikki huffs. "Syncing their magical and mundane phones did not happen just because our wielders wanted it to. I think it will now, though," she muses, or maybe decides. "I keep telling her she's my best, and she keeps thinking I mean 'best for her age'."</p><p>"Hey, since we're trading for a bit anyway, I'll tell her. Maybe she'll believe it coming from me." Plagg flies into the shower just to stare Adrien in the soapy face while he adds "And maybe mine will believe you."</p><p>Adrien closes his eyes and sticks his head in the spray.</p><p>"No other Coccinelle has tried to use Lucky Break to study an injury or illness," Tikki tells them all. "To heal, of course, and to observe while healing, sometimes, but the spell is fundamentally similar to Lucky Charm."</p><p>"You get what you need, whether you know what to do with it or not," Adrien fills in, thinking about the mirror that would probably have been rectangular if he had wanted it to be any particular shape, and how easy it is to confuse heartburn with a heart attack. Marinette being exemplary among heroes? Yeah, of course. But himself? "I'm a curious cat, I suppose, and I don't want to play roulette with her life."</p><p>"So you want a control group," guesses Nino. "I'm in."</p><p>Adrien leans past the glass: he needs to see Nino's face right now, since the Butterfly-gifted sixth sense is just indistinguishable cacophony at this point, a headache that is telling him <em>absolutely nothing</em>. (If something bad was happening, someone would be screaming, Adrien reminds himself. Probably audibly using plain old mundane Miraculously-unenhanced senses, at that.) "I won't have any way to know what's on your medical records and what's akuma-related and what you might not know about yet," he cautions. "Medical privacy laws are there for a reason."</p><p>"Do you want me to sign a waiver?"</p><p>That is a serious question deserving a serious answer. Despite that, Adrien can't stop laughing.</p>
<hr/><p><i>Ding-dong.</i> Marinette jumps; Alya sloshes soup onto their hand.</p><p>"I'll get it," M. Dupain says; the kitchen sink runs a moment longer. Alya sets the soup bowl down in time to see Chat Noir, or Mister Bug, narrowly avoid crashing into M. Dupain. "Steady there," he tells Chat mildly. Chat flushes a dull red and joins Marinette and Alya on the sofa.</p><p>Once Marinette's leaning on him instead of them, Alya slides halfway off in order to be as sure as possible whoever's at the door won't see the orange flare of their transforming, or their Mirage flare to life so that it still looks like it's Alya settling back on the sofa, on their knees so they can lean on the sofa back and watch most of the room. Chat Noir eyes his gloves (now appearing solid black and claw-tipped) and the dining table (now visibly empty of Master Fù, Mme Lenoir, the Peacock Miraculous, and assorted kwamis) and Rena, who shrugs one shoulder. They have a feeling. Judging by how Nino is casually parked so that no one can get upstairs without bodily removing him first, he also has a feeling.</p><p>
  <i>Ding-dong.</i>
</p><p>M. Dupain opens the door a crack. "Maman! I thought you were in Amster—"</p><p>"—not how it's <em>done</em>!" roars an unfamiliar voice downstairs.</p><p>"—dam," M. Dupain finishes. "What—"</p><p>"Broadcasting this unsubstantiated rumor endangers her!" shouts Nadja Chamack.</p><p>"There are paparazzi," Marinette's grandmother explains belatedly; M. Dupain closes the apartment door behind her; she hugs him, choking down a single sob, then surveys the room. "I told Roland I would tell him everything you know if he ensured I got inside. We intend to tell the swarm of gnats that Marinetta is not here either way." She pauses. "<em>Is</em> Marinetta—"</p><p>A silence.</p><p>"What's the rest of the question?" Rena prompts.</p><p>"Alya, don't," Marinette says. "Chat—"</p><p>Chat Noir rolls his eyes, a disconcerting sight when Rena is watching both his cat-like and his human eyes do it, and boosts Marinette high enough Nonna Dupain can see her. "Curiosity satisfied?" he bites out. "<em>Get lost</em>."</p><p>"Not yet," Nino says. "Alya and me are probably not a great control group, dude, Oblivio is a variable in play."</p><p>Rena eyes him. "What are you volunteering me for?"</p><p>Nino holds up both hands as though to show how they're empty and he's harmless. (The Turtle Miraculous doesn't stand out among his other bracelets and wristbands, but it's not very concealed, either.) "Chat Scientifique wants to play with Lucky Break. Figuring out what's typical after-akuma effects and what's Hawkmoth pulling new shit."</p><p>Rena considers that for half a second, thinks about who's outside, then bounds over the sofa and waves the Dupains out of their way. The apartment's exterior door is closed and probably locked, and sounds like it's the focus of the commotion; there are two news cameras pointed through the bakery windows, not that they'll see Rena, and if either films 'Alya Césaire' on hands and knees to try to crawl to the business entrance unseen, that is fine by Rena: that makes it obvious what an intrusion of privacy this is.</p><p>The bakery door is also locked, and Rena is entirely content to let it stay that way. One magic camera and one tweaked illusion mean it looks as though Alya is opening that door just enough to sound the chime and lean out to yell "What in the fuck is going on here?" at the several people who (Rena can see while staying inside unseen) are outside with cameras and mics and in one case a slim phone.</p><p>…None of whom were anywhere near here when Rena Rouge and Carapace arrived.</p><p>Nadja elbows past two of the journalists, keeping a tight grip on her shopping bag, to block one camera's view of 'Alya'. "An alleged terrorist I need not name," she says over her shoulder, "alleges that someone I <em>may</em> not name, because she is a <em>minor</em> and no one has <em>asked her</em>," she adds with venom probably not directed at Alya, "is both of the young ladies directly responsible for his arrest."</p><p>Oh shit.</p><p>Asking how Nadja or anyone knows this is too close to making it sound true. "You all know how many akumas attacked Chloé Bourgeois and Lila Rossi for claiming to be Ladybug's best friend, right?" 'Alya' asks, with extra glare. "Noble of them both," they lie, "drawing fire away from anyone with <em>real</em> personal connections to Ladybug and Chat Noir. I bet Ladybug's other friends thank them for their service. I <em>know</em> Ladybug told them both to stop endangering their families that way."</p><p>"But Hawkmoth and Mayura got arrested," explains one of the reporters, with extra 'smart man addressing loudly wrong teenage girl' loaded into the tone, "so it's safe to—"</p><p>That man is fortunate the door between Rena and himself <em>is</em> locked. "Sir, I will bet you my life savings that no one who might be either Ladybug or Chat Noir has gone to a hospital today." Alya's life savings is about two hundred euro; that's not important. "Because it is <em>very easy</em> to sneak up on an unconscious person and steal the earrings off her ears. And even if only one person in a thousand would dare even think about that? In a big enough hospital, that's almost a guarantee someone will try.</p><p>"Hawkmoth is not the world's only power-hungry asshole with money, Monsieur." (This reporter still looks skeptical, though some of the others wince or nod.) "It will <em>never</em> be safe for Ladybug to tell you who she is. Not for her, not for her family, not for her friends. Not for anyone you claim is her—which goes double if you're wrong! Because the assholes will target anyone they think is Ladybug, or Ladybug's family, or friends, or, I don't know, a kid Ladybug babysits—" That's a safe way to say it, right?</p><p>"Shellter!" interrupts Carapace. The shield springs up around most of the reporters and their equipment—a sphere, not a dome, Rena realizes, and tries not to burst out laughing when Carapace shoves this oversized hamster ball, sending it rolling down the road to the sound of the reporters' squawks and curses. Carapace himself drops to the sidewalk next to Nadja. "Sabine wants you upstairs," he tells Nadja, gesturing over toward the apartment door.</p><p>Rena makes the illusion Alya close the illusion bakery door, then realigns themself and what everyone else is seeing. They've barely heard the apartment door close behind Nadja and Grandpa Dupain when Nadja says "I had no way to stop the other network. I'm sorry."</p><p>"Apologize to <em>her</em>," Carapace says, shooing them both upstairs. He glances back at Rena, mimes banging his head on the wall, and slips outside; Rena composes another class-wide text.</p><p>"—<em>must</em> be a lie!" Grandpa Dupain is fuming when 'Alya' gets back upstairs. "She's fifteen! That's not how it's <em>done</em>!"</p><p>Rena tweaks the Mirage. "I'm younger," an illusion Rena says helpfully from the top of the flight of steps M. Dupain has taken over barricading. "I don't turn sixteen till summer."</p><p>"That's off the record, Mme Chamack," Marinette says. Nadja is counting the cash Mme Cheng just traded for Nadja's shopping bag, with no phone or mic in sight, but the way Marinette and Chat Noir are leaning on each other means Marinette has no way to see that. "For reasons including they shouldn't have said it."</p><p>" 'Iel'?" Grandpa Dupain repeats.</p><p>"Rena Rouge is not a girl," says Nonna Dupain in a long-suffering tone, "nor are they a boy, so neither 'elle' nor 'il' is—"</p><p>"That's <em>not</em>—"</p><p>"Grandfather," Marinette interrupts. "That sentence had better not end how I expect it to end. Nonna, take him somewhere else, there's too many people here for my partner." Yeah, Chat Noir's jaw is worryingly tense, Rena notices. Marinette continues, "Remind me next month to explain 'demigirl'. And remind me never to let Grandfather and Yéye in the same room, I <em>refuse</em> to referee that fight."</p><p><a id="return22" name="return22"></a>" 'Yéye'," Chat Noir repeats, eyeing the dining table.<sup>[<a href="#note22">22</a>]</sup> (Master Fù and Mme Lenoir have found each other's hands. He's crying, quietly enough Rena almost doesn't need the illusion to keep the others from hearing him.) Marinette elbows him half-heartedly.</p><p>From upstairs, Nino ducks around Rena's illusion self to jump the stair railing, fold his arms, and glare both grandparents out of the apartment, Sabine following them. Rena adds a Carapace illusion draping his arms over 'Rena's' shoulders.</p><p>"Mme Chamack," Marinette continues, "if you've done what Maman asked, is there a reason you're still here? Because <em>no one</em> is getting any interviews."</p><p>Nadja's face falls.</p><p>That's unfair, Rena thinks, after Nadja's effort to protect Ladybug's identity. "Someone should get enough of a sound bite that everyone stops panicking about Adrien being missing," 'Alya' says, circling around toward the television so that, when Chat Noir turns to glare at them, Rena can project a little screen for his and Marinette's eyes only:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>thumbs up if you have something to say, thumbs down if you don't, cut-throat hands if you don't want me helping at all</p>
</blockquote>Marinette turns her thumb down. Chat Noir turns his up.<blockquote>
  <p>okay, LB, shush, CN, speak on cue</p>
</blockquote>Marinette flips up a different finger.<p>'Adrien' slips past 'Carapace' and 'Rena Rouge' to lean over the stair railing. Rena's depicting him wearing the same green-striped black tee and blue jeans he wore yesterday, only rumpled as though slept-in, and Rena wants a one-second delay between Chat Noir's actual words and expressions and Rena having 'Adrien' mimic them. That'll work, right? "One question, Nadja," Rena has 'Carapace' say, "and then turn the camera off and leave."</p><p>Nadja yanks her phone out of her pocket. "What do—wait. I want to ask your opinion on the condition your father set for his surrender, but I don't know if you know what that condition is."</p><p>Rena does <em>not</em> relay Chat Noir's frantic expression, and his tiny whimper goes unheard. Marinette glares at Alya and beckons with one trembling finger.</p><p>"Hang on," says the illusion Rena. "I don't think he's checked his voicemail, but I have that audio." It is one hundred percent a stalling tactic while 'Alya' sidles over to Marinette. "<i>Adrien, I'm so sorry,</i>" recorded Rena says. (They didn't even need to know the timestamp. They are doing <em>all</em> their video editing on the flute from now on.) "<i>Hawkmoth is your father—</i>"</p><p>"I'll talk," Marinette whispers in Rena's ear. "You make it sound like him."</p><p>'Alya' nods. Marinette chews her lip and fiddles with the charm bracelet Adrien gave her while the recording plays.</p><p>"<i>—tell you his condition,</i>" Rena's voice finishes.</p><p>"I don't know why Father wants to tell me why, me and no one else," Marinette begins, silently to everyone but Rena Rouge; 'Adrien' repeats the words with very little intonation, so that Nadja records 'him' sounding more tired than anything. "Maybe he plans to mind control me again. I don't know if he is able to without using a Miraculous, but when Dark Cupid got me, I tried to—to hurt someone who matters to me. I don't want to risk that."</p><p>The stumble over the words is Marinette's; Chat Noir hides his face in her shoulder, which Rena chooses not to let anyone see, and Marinette finds by feel where the base of one cat ear should be. "Maybe Father plans to threaten me or my friends," Marinette continues for Adrien. "He can't ground me anymore, but he can probably still bribe someone to attack us. Maybe he forgot, when Puppeteer hit the wax museum, I thought that was the real Hawkmoth, and I tried to fight him so my friends had time to run."</p><p>"I don't think he forgot," Nino says in 'Adrien's' direction. "I'm not sure he <em>knew</em>." To Nadja's camera, he says, "I don't know how much Puppeteer told him. Adrien told <em>me</em> he didn't want to worry his pops with the bit about the wax Hawkmoth cracking the floor tile where Adrien's rib cage literally just was."</p><p>"Riposte <em>chopped in half</em> the box Ladybug had him hide in," Marinette snaps. When 'Adrien' repeats it, gaze fixed on the window above the television, Rena corrects the pronoun: "It surprised them both that I wasn't there."</p><p>"Does Kagami know that?" 'Alya' mutters.</p><p>"<em>Maybe</em>," Marinette emphasizes (Marinette herself giving Rena a withering glare), "Father really means to tell me the truth. Or just enough of the truth, framed just right, so that he thinks I will agree with him and do what he wants." Rena lets some of Chat Noir's unsteady breathing and some of the heat in Marinette's tone show in the Adrien illusion. "Father told me school was dangerous, and then he <em>made it true</em>. If hearing his reasons will be important for his trial, I might reconsider. Until then, I. Don't. <em>Care</em>."</p><p>Marinette jerks her hand sideways, then buries it again in Chat Noir's hair. 'Adrien' retreats upstairs, 'Carapace' following, and Rena adds a theatrical slam of Marinette's trap door.</p><p>Nadja puts away her phone, eyes glistening. "Marinette, Manon sends her love," she says. "And to Adrien; tell him, please."</p><p>"I'll make sure he knows," 'Alya' says. They wait until they hear Sabine lock the outside door behind Nadja to say "Let's rest," catching Trixx in one hand and shattering all the illusions, and flop dramatically on the unoccupied side of the sofa.</p><p>"Thank you," Chat Noir says, muffled by the fabric of Marinette's borrowed hoodie.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Content notes: a couple flavors of bullying.<br/> </p><p><a id="note20" name="note20"></a><i>20:</i> μ (the Greek letter mu, which English speakers typically pronounce 'mew' and Greek speakers pronounce much more like English 'me') represents the coefficient of friction, found here in static and kinetic varieties. Marinette will realize why Adrien thinks this is hilarious at some point after she's properly caught her breath. <sup>[<a href="#return20">return</a>]</sup></p><p><a id="note21" name="note21"></a><i>21:</i> Thomas Astruc has at various points specifically identified Cernunnos, Herakles, Sun Wukong, and Jesus Christ as historical Miraculous wielders; we are apparently supposed to understand the first two wielders shown in Origins 1 (one of whom turns back up in "Feast") as Cernunnos and Herakles. This is the same Thomas Astruc who refused to acknowledge the possibility of hijabi characters (even as background models) because ML is not a series that deals with religion, even while having Our Lady of Paris in a bunch of backgrounds, two count-'em <em>two</em> Christmas-themed episodes, and quantic <a href="https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/%E7%A5%9E#Japanese">kami</a>. None of y'all signed up for my lecture on apotheosis and the uniquely doubled way Herakles was worshipped in ancient Greek religion and even fewer of y'all signed up for my lecture on parallels between Herakles and Jesus from a polytheistic perspective; long story short, Astruc sounds like the asshole sort of atheist, saying that the Gods of real-world religions were only ever humans with magic jewelry is an asshole move, and I am not obliged to play along. <sup>[<a href="#return21">return</a>]</sup></p><p><a id="note22" name="note22"></a><i>22:</i> 'Yéye': Mandarin 爺爺, which might be either one's father's father specifically or any man old enough to be one's grandfather generally. <sup>[<a href="#return22">return</a>]</sup><br/> </p><p>lyrics:<br/>• "<a href="https://genius.com/Bonnie-tyler-holding-out-for-a-hero-lyrics">Holding Out for a Hero</a>", Bonnie Tyler<br/>• "<a href="https://genius.com/Rachel-platten-fight-song-lyrics">Fight Song</a>", Rachel Platten</p><p>A full YouTube playlist for the concert will be linked from the final chapter.<br/> </p><p>Thank you, <a href="https://alliando.tumblr.com"><b>alliando</b></a>, for the inspiration.<a id="random14" name="random14"></a></p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a href="https://alexseanchai.tumblr.com/post/612627045048008704/as-a-fic-writer-i-need-every-reader-to-know">My comment policy</a>: tl;dr happy comments make me happy. So do thinky comments, of course, but there exist jerks who think only thinky comments are worth anyone leaving.</p><p>Find me on <a href="https://alexseanchai.dreamwidth.org/">Dreamwidth</a> and <a href="https://alexseanchai.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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